It has become difficult to be a good conversationalist with people who read my blog. Inevitably I’m interrupted with, “Yeah, I read that on your blog,” which makes me feel all narcissistic and lame, like I only have one thing to say and I’ve already said it, so I should just shut the flux up.
Oprah hasn’t called me, which is weird, because surely she’s heard of me by now, what with me shamelessly dropping her name every few columns, sometimes more than once. Oprah.
My photography of late has been limited to cell phone pictures because the house ate the battery chargers for my two excellent cameras. This annoys me to no end, because I KNOW those fuckers are just sitting here in the bowels of this structure, often within my arm’s reach because my house isn’t that big, BUT I CAN’T FIND THEM. And I’ll spend $14.99 for a Monster High Ghoulia Yelps Doll who comes with a pet owl, and $17.99 for a Barbie Princess Bride Doll who comes with a brush and a HUGE engagement ring, but I won’t spend $29.99 for a new charger.
I had been doing extraordinarily excellent with my whole New House Order thing, but then the disposal broke which clogged the sink which blocked the dishwasher drain which flooded my kitchen. D’OH! Now I’m having to wash dishes by hand, just like Caroline Ingalls did, and it might not be my dream to go back in time and live in Walnut Grove after all. When did life become so complicated that I can’t live without a disposal?
The Keurig coffeemaker broke eons ago, and I’m living on Starbucks Vias, those little instant coffee packs. They’re good! But not cheap. And if I’m going to be a writer addicted to instant coffee, I feel like I should start smoking unfiltered Camels and drinking gin. Stay tuned.
Life guru Andrew Weil says the key to happiness is spending more time enjoying nature. I agree. Maybe I want to live in Walnut Grove after all, if Walnut Grove can be in Florida and I won’t have to dig soggy caramelized onions out of the drain. Ew. So we hired a Tree Man to chop down a bunch of stuff and a Bulldozer Man to move a bunch a stuff around, all in a complicated effort to create a simple outdoor paradise. It’s possible I’m more Mrs. Oleson than Caroline Ingalls.
Oh, and my shrink? Dr. Kay? He upped my Cymbalta because I told him I’m going home for the holidays. (musical tone) Luh-uhve (musical tone) him! It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.