Author: Michelle

Going fallow

I have a head for business and a body for sin. Unfortunately, the sin appears to be gluttony.

–Jenny Colgan

 

Curiosity is gluttony. To see is to devour.

–Victor Hugo

 

The other night, as I was binge watching “the Shahs of Sunset,” I decided something: my brain is more disengaged than I would like it to be. I  haven’t been reading  anything (much), I have no projects going that I’m longing to complete, I haven’t been writing.  My brain has been-to borrow a farming term-fallow.

Is that good or bad?

Spending more time watching the messed up lives of a bunch of wealthy Los Angeles Iranians is not something I aspire to, although I do love Asa’s caftan collection and the over the top gold jewelry they all wear. I don’t like to “should” myself, but I really should find something better to do with my time than this. At the very least, make something while I’m watching?

The lack of a creative outlet for my imagination and hands is dangerous for me. Mentally and physically dangerous. Left to my own devices without the ability to imagine things and implement them in some way,  I’m the living embodiment of “satan finds work for idle hands…” and not even in ways that are interesting. I mean, if I’m going to be self destructive it should at least be interesting.

The sad truth of all of my bad habits is that they are very dull. No one wants to hear about gluttony or sloth. They are the least sexy of the Seven Deadly Sins. Perhaps I should try wrath, vainglory or greed?   I already have a tinge of lust, pride and sorrow.

I’m certainly not giving up lust or melancholy. I’m a November girl and Scorpio has got to  scorp!

Avarice/greed  is not my thing at all.

Do you suppose I should try to work toward vainglory? I do have a very high opinion of myself, but it’s offset by an equally low opinion of myself. I suspect I could get to vainglory eventually, but I might need some therapy to boost my ego a bit. Or is it my id that’s deficient?

Wrath? Occasionally. I can be irritable if I think people are stupid, but to get up a good smoldering ire takes a long time for me. It’s generally something people have earned. I could probably achieve wrath, but I’m not sure it’s a lifestyle I could truly embrace.

Maybe I should work on the sins I already have before trying to get new ones.

Wait, what?

I’m not supposed to increase the number of sins in my life? I’m supposed to decrease them?? Who says? Everybody? Well, that’s silly.  What do you mean, I went on a tangent?

Apparently, I was saying something about my brain going fallow.

At least lack of mental discipline is not one of the Seven Deadly Sins….but I will try to do a better job of not letting my brain and body turn into marshmallow fluff from now on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being the man and woman of the house

 

It is a little known fact about me that I am usually  good at fixing things. It is also a relatively little known fact that I hate fixing things.

So in most of my relationships, for various reasons, I have had to do a lot of the traditionally man of the house work.  Putting together furniture.  Replacing electrical outlets and light fixtures. Hanging pictures. Interacting with plumbers. Patching drywall.  It wouldn’t be an issue except that I also work full time and do a lot of the traditionally female work around the house as well.

Sometimes it would be really nice to be able to drop some of that work into other hands.

I’ve got people to do the yard work, which I will never give up. I love having yard peeps. I wish there was a household maintenance service I could hire on a monthly basis  to do all those little annoying things around the house that stack up like the lawn service does for the yard. Fixing the tile by the back door. Replacing the light bulbs over the sink and in the garage. Re-caulking the tub. Replacing the outlet in the bathroom that isn’t working. Cleaning the gutters. They could come every month on a certain day, go through the house and do whatever little thing needs handy-manning at the time. Like a yard service, but for the house.

It would be heaven. Someone should really consider that business model. I would definitely want to be a customer.

 

If you steal the idea, just give me credit and a lifetime subscription.

 

 

 

An imaginary conversation about being lost

Can you tell me what happened?

I don’t want to.

You asked for me, so I’m here.

You don’t have to be here. You can leave.

You want me to leave? Why did you ask for me if you don’t want me here?

It’s not that, but you shouldn’t be here.

If there’s something I can help you with, I want to.

You can’t help me.

Do you know how you got here?

….

What do you remember?

I can’t talk about this with you.

Why shouldn’t I be here?

You don’t want to be involved in this.

Your brother said you asked for me and put me on the visiting list. So I’m here.

Please don’t.

Don’t?

Don’t treat me like I’m crazy.

What?

The way you’re looking at me. I can’t stand it.

Obviously I’m worried about you.

It’s none of your business.

If I’m your friend, and you asked for me, I hope that means I can be concerned.

You’re not concerned. You’re gloating.

Gloating because you’re here? No. God. No. 

You’re smiling. I can’t stand it. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m fine. 

Smiling is my default nervous face. Why are you here?

It isn’t my fault. I’m a good person. 

Of course you’re a good person. No one is questioning that. 

They are. Everyone thinks I deserve this. 

Can you tell me what happened?

No.

No, you can’t or no you won’t?

No. I don’t know. Don’t remember. 

OK

You don’t believe me, do you?

Actually I do. What’s the last thing you remember?

Being at work. Then I was here. 

Nothing in between?

No. Everyone keeps asking me. No. 

Has anyone told you?

Yes. 

Do you believe them?

I don’t want to. Did they tell you?

Your brother did. 

And you’re here anyway?

And I’m here anyway. 

Why?

You asked for me. You probably don’t remember.  

No. You aren’t here because you love me?

Dumb ass. That too. My time is up. Would you like me to come again?

Heh. I can always make you come again. 

Well that’s promising, anyway. You’ve still got the sense of humor of a 12 year old. 

Somethings never change.

Love you. 

Always. Even when I don’t want to remember anything else. 

%d bloggers like this: