Summer Ennui

I haven’t done anything today. I have been occupying this specific section of the couch for the past two hours and am pretty sure when I stand up (if I can stand up) my imprint will remain to commemorate my time with this particular sofa cushion.

The summer months…I had forgotten about the lethargy and ennui that often (more often than not, in my case) accompany breaks. One always imagines with near-rapture the end of work and school...that is, until the actual end of work and school. Certainly, it's glorious at first, the sleeping in, the perpetual pajama wearing...and then you get to day #4 of doing nothing and just like that, the honeymoon is over. You start counting ceiling tiles, minding other people's business for them, noticing crooked wall-hangings, alphabetizing the spices in the cabinet, and then you realize: I NEED SOME KIND OF RESPONSIBILITY!!! Grass is greener and all that I suppose.

This blog is some kind of tribute to my lack of purpose.

I could be doing things, but I’m not. There’s a giant philosophy book with my name on it that I’ve chosen to ignore in lieu of re-reading (for the 5th time) a Christian romance book. But it's not one of those about the hidden love-lives of the Amish, or one of those about pioneer women and mail-order brides. No, this one is much more respectable and I'm only mildly embarrassed to admit to reading it---this one is one of those labled 'witty' or 'clever' and it should be mentioned that after consulting the hierarchy of Christian novels, this one is superior to the other two types mentioned.

Anyway, I should have gone for a run. I didn’t. I went for a 2 miler yesterday though, so I’m running on borrowed aerobic exercise. Blah. Tomorrow is another day, I will run tomorrow.

I think I’m quickly becoming the dog’s new favorite person. Or else he’s realized just how easily he can manipulate me. I’ve been giving him treats and petting him to win back his affections, and just as I begin to believe my plan has worked (he now follows me with stalker-like devotion) I realize that maybe he’s pulled the wool over my eyes. Case in point: 1) dog whines. I, like the subservient maiden that I am, let him in and out of the house at his whim. 2) Dog sees me eating hard-boiled egg. Next thing I know I am sans half of my hard boiled egg. Dog seems satisfied. Who’s the boss around here?!

The power went out today. For approximately 3 hours. My tofu was on the verge of decomposing, but just as I was tearfully saying goodbye to the lovely little soy chunks, the power came back on. How did people live before refrigeration?

Also, I got new running shorts today. Not that I’ll use them for their intended purposes, but I have them, and they're this really stellar shade of powder blue. You know, like from the 80s. Matched with my fuchsia camisole and the lime green t-shirt I just cut the neck off of, I look either like Cyndi Lauper (evil #1) or a human Skittle (evil #2). Which is the lesser of the two? Tell me please.

Anyway, enough of this. I have 70 pages witty, clever, modern-ness to finish reading and here I am, typing away and developing carpel tunnel along with stasis ulcers.

Oh, but as a final note:

Criz: I think our cat looks like she should be named Matilda. Doesn’t she look like a Matilda to you?
Dad: I don’t know. I don’t like that name. It reminds me of my Aunt Matilda, she was pretty crazy.
Criz: Oh I love crazy people stories! What did she do?
Dad: Well, for one, she had a lobotomy.
Criz: Oh.
Yup. Just when you think you can make fun of someone for being crazy you find out that they’re actually crazy and there goes that.

Day Three

I am in Colorado.

Day three of this no work, no school business.

I am keeping mom company in the kitchen as she cooks lunch, reading to her from Vaclav Havel's Letters to Olga in between snatching tid-bits of tasty things out of the frying pan.

I have been chastised numerous times for 'picking' at the lunch, but I think it's a half-flattered type of chastising.

Anywho, we're waiting to Paloma to come home from work at the coal plant before eating. Isn't that funny? I never thought I'd wait for anyone to come home from a coal plant before sitting down to lunch, but there it is.

Dad is out changing the oil in my car and writing down milages and oil types and other queer automotive notations I don't exactly care enough about to try to understand.

Today I found a gray hair on my head. Not even gray, a WHITE hair. My very first white hair. If this is an omen of things to come, I am not excited. I'm 23 and 11 months old. How fair is it to have a white hair at 23 years and 11 months? You'd think biology could hold off for another few years, at least til I'm thirty. I guess I could be thankful; Proverbs 16 says that "The hoary head is a crown of glory; It shall be found in the way of righteousness."

I'm thankful for my righteous, hoary head.

Ha.

Well, Paloma has come from the coal plant, mom has finished lunch, and dad is done with the oil change. I suppose I'm off to eat. But I don't quite feel hungry anymore. I wonder if that's due to the 'picking.'

The Box of Suspicious Cookies

Today I found a box of cookies by the sink in the office hallway.

They looked very suspicious. They just appeared there overnight.

No one knew anything about them, but I really wanted one.

Then Joan told me that a vendor gave them to her and she left them by the sink hoping they would go stale so we could throw them away.

I did not want them to be thrown away.

So I ate three.

The End