(*Award yourself one billion points if you recognized this as the first words from Smashing Pumpkins' "Bullet With Butterfly Wings." Deduct five bajillion points if you thought this was a reference to an Anne Rice novel.)
Today. Ah, today. Today I am wearing my giant turquoise ring, which the hubs bought for me in a little antique shop in charming Salado, Texas. Its one of my favorite pieces of jewelry and there's something about wearing it that kind of brightens my outlook on things, ya know. Okay, yeah, that might of sounded shallow or vain, but that's not how I mean it. It's just that I like my turquoise ring and it makes me happy to put in on my finger. And isn't that what gets us through the day, really? The small pick-me-ups -- the details that only you yourself can appreciate. Well, today it's my turquoise ring.
Yeah, I'm feeling kind of dark and life seems messy today. But not the kind of mess I'm used to, which is something along the lines of a dog pooping on the kitchen table. (Messy, yes. Strange, certainly. But I know how to clean that up. Clorox and paper towels and screaming at Deuce.) Today it feels kind of like I can't quite get things in the place they belong. There's clutter everywhere, and while it seems to be stacked neatly its still not put in the place it belongs. I'm not an organizer. I just don't know how to do that. I'm like a blind person in a paint store and I can't seem to pick shades that match. So instead of fixing things, I'm just making a bigger mess of it all.
People say money doesn't fix anything. Oh, but I disagree. I think that if I had a money tree growing in the backyard, that I wouldn't be so intent on the hubs keeping a job that smothers his soul. I wouldn't be horribly fat because the insurance refuses to pay for any kind of intervention – surgery, namely. My grandmother wouldn't be spending her twilight in an old folk's home. And my daddy wouldn't be crying over his babies living 1,000 miles away because it wouldn't matter that gas was $4 a gallon and plane tickets cost a fortune.
No. None of it would matter. It'd be easier. There'd be fewer dark and messy days. Fewer days of holding myself together based solely on the fickle happiness a turquoise ring provides or wishing that it was as simple as the dog shitting on the table.
3 comments:
GOD. Do you do anything besides wine? Life isn't so hard for you. You aren't suffering from a deadly disease. Your husband seems to love you. God knows how. Yet, you bitch a moan about how hard things are. Grow up, honey.
B.linda
B.linda,
If you need to leave a nasty comment and are tired of what momma pug has to say, perhaps you should stop reading!
Being mean doesn't solve anything and my best friend has the right to post anything she wants on HER webpage...
Dear B.Linda,
Let me start by saying that it is taking ever fiber of my being not to nickname you B.Itch. I think it shows my maturity that I've decided no to stoop to that level.
Well, I think my girl Madge has said it pretty well.
All I'll add is this -- You don't truly know me or anything about my struggles. All you see if what I allow you see. You know nothing about me except what you read here. Maybe I have cancer? Maybe I have a brain tumor? Or the gout? Or maybe I just like annoying you.
Thanks for reading. B.Linda. And feel free to comment anytime. Hate mail is the a great sort of flattery. I mean, at least you are reading, right!
Post a Comment