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- Melanie
Dear Subconscious,
When you have me dreaming about being chased around an abandoned house by some strange combination of John Lithgow and John Malkovich, aided and abetted by his crazy sidekick Mandy Patinkin, I am much obliged when you arm me with some serious firepower. Would have been better if I didn�t have to reload after every shot, but still, I appreciate the foresight.
Sincerely,
The Management
I had a sudden thought on Saturday, smack-dab in the middle our last reading of Fahrenheit 451. I realized that it�s been ages since I�ve finished a book.
We got to the section where Chief Beatty talks about what amounts to the dumbing down of America; the condensation of literature into nothing more than soundbites. And I thought of the piles of books I have that have yet to be cracked.
I have several �in progress,� several �bought ages ago with my payment-for-caroling-Borders-giftcard that I intend to make it through,� several �suggested by friends that I really do need to read� and several �cripes, you�ve read this one already, you can�t even make it through a second time?�
And, to call upon my once-extensive-but-rapidly-shrinking vocabulary, that really sucks.
I mean, I used to be able to tear through several books a week. Now, between this �adult-onset ADD� with which I seem to be afflicted and just general getting through the day exhaustion, I can barely make it through a whole catalog in one sitting.
And friends, it�s catalog season. I am doomed.
Why is Citibank telling me my IRA is over $9100 richer than it actually is? The $9100 goes into hiding whenever I click on the account itself, but it�s there on the account summary page, taunting me. Teasing. Gloating, even.
If I�m gonna have fake riches, at least let me see them, so I can fake �strew them all over my naked form and roll around on the bed� with them.
The hoarding is worse than I�d thought. Dad had cancelled checks in the basement from the year my parents got married. 1961. Forty-four years, people.
I shredded years 1961-1980 today at work. A grocery bag�s worth. (A damned heavy grocery bag, stretched to its cheaponi plastic limit.) I didn�t tell him I was taking them. I shredded them only so I wouldn�t have to lie about it when asked. I don�t see anything wrong with this, because IF HE HASN�T NEEDED THEM IN THE PAST 44 YEARS, CHANCES ARE HE AIN�T GONNA NEED THEM ANYTIME IN THE NEAR FUTURE! OR THE FAR FUTURE! OR THE FREAKING AFTERLIFE!
He said to me as we were eating dinner, �Gee Mel, if you�d been around when the Collyer Brothers were found out, I bet you�d have had plenty to say!�
Is the first step to recovery admitting that you have more than a passing familiarity with someone your child fears you could become?!?
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a very fine cat indeed - Friday, Jan. 17, 2014
happy new year! - Thursday, Jan. 24, 2013
this is where i am - Saturday, Jun. 30, 2012
this is how it is - Friday, Feb. 24, 2012
a very late last year's wrap-up - Wednesday, Jan. 18, 2012
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