By Ann Brown
I am in that awkward in-between stage of life: too young to totally let myself go, and too lazy to improve myself.
Maybe I will just end this post at that last sentence. I mean, really, what more can I say about the topic that is going to matter?
Dr. Oz says that all we have to do is focus on one thing and work on that. Which is bullshit, of course. Because you can’t improve upon only one thing without having to up your game on the rest of your shit. It’s all connected.
It’s like when you are just about to take a shower but all the towels are in the washing machine so you have to use, like, ten clean kitchen towels to dry yourself and while you are naked in the kitchen getting the towels, you smell something funky. Which, upon investigation, is the kitchen trash. And you decide to take out the kitchen trash now, you know, so you don’t have to do it after your shower when you are all clean and shiny and all great smelling of Burt’s Bees Sugar and Honey Scrub.
So you throw on a schmatte and tie up the trash bag but some garbage falls out the top and leaves a funky viscous drool on the kitchen floor. So you put the bag back into the kitchen trash can and get a paper towel to wipe up the floor so the new puppy doesn’t eat the funky drool and vomit while you are taking out the trash.
But shit. You are out of paper towels. And the new package of them is downstairs because Robin insists on shopping at fucking Costco even though there are only TWO of you left in the house and he brings home the, I don’t know, four-hundred-roll package of Brawny, which doesn’t fit anywhere except downstairs in the guest bedroom. Which reminds you that Mom is coming next week. And that we aren’t even supposed to buy Brawny paper towels because they are owned by the evil Koch brothers, so you drop everything to write Robin a note that says, “Mom is coming next week. Please remove your porn from the guest bedroom. Also, we are boycotting Brawny. And stop fucking shopping at Costco. The Persian cucumbers always go bad before we can finish them, and let’s be honest – we NEVER actually cut a maple muffin in half and freeze the other half. We eat the whole fucking muffin. Which is why I have to let the seams out of my maternity underpants.”
It will be a stellar note: Robin’s fault that we are poor AND I am fat. I love being a writer.
But all the pens are dry and the only thing you see on which to write Robin a note is the envelope from the library reminding you that you owe approximately eighty two million dollars in overdue fines. Which reminds you – those books you thought you lost were actually in the back of the Toyota! So you run down to the car to bring them into the house. And then you think, “I should really keep them in the car so I don’t forget to return them” which, of course, is exactly the reasoning that you put them in the car eleven months ago.
And while you are out in the driveway, you see that the garbage can is already filled to the top so when you bring the kitchen trash bag out, it is going to make it impossible to close the lid. And then everyone on your street will judge you for being a household of two and having so much garbage like, I don’t know, maybe they will think you don’t recycle or compost – which you do – or that you throw entire contents of linen closets into the kitchen trash – also which you do – when you don’t feel like folding towels and stuffing them into the shelf.
And then you totally forget why you are standing in the driveway.
And then you notice the color of your hair in your car’s side mirror and you decide that – broke or not – you are springing for the non-generic hair color next time because in the sunlight you look like you are wearing one of those multi-colored clown wigs. And then you remember that this is Oregon and there never is any fucking sunlight.
Which gets you thinking.
Do you want to move? Not back to LA, of course, although you do miss your friends and family. And will you ever realize your dream of the commune on Whidbey Island? And how will you ever convince Cousins Adam and Ken to leave New York? What will it take, dear Lord, to get them here? Maybe my hair will be a cry for help that will bring them running to me.
Oh, and do I want a salmon burger for lunch? I think I do.
And where is the spray starch, because I have a lot of shit to iron. I love my JJill linen tops but it’s a lot of ironing. I do love JJill. I wonder when the next catalog is coming…
And – shit! What if Romney wins? I don’t think I have it in me to handle that without a major incident.
And why is Phila running outside carrying a large white pillow case? How adorable.
Wait. That is not a pillow case at all. It is the trash bag that I left in the kitchen. And she has torn it open.
And all the kitchen trash is scattered all over the kitchen and down the stairs and now, on the front lawn. And then it all comes back to you – why you are standing there and what needs to be done.
And you think to yourself, Robin really needs to mow the lawn.
The post Why It Isn’t Worth It To Do Anything. First in a Series. appeared first on The Next Family.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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