Look, I'm disjointed!

I feel like I am holding the broken threads of a rope bridge railing in each hand, hoping against hope that when my sweaty fingers lose their grasp I will hit the churning water gently and be able to swim easily to shore.

Not gonna happen.

I need to give up on the idea that my ducks will be forming a neat little row anytime soon. I must accept the likelihood that I will leave loose ends untied at the close of tomorrow’s workday, before our Thursday morning road trip. The dogs may not go to the kennel on time, or they will be missing proof of some key vaccination. I might just drink heavily during our weekend visit with Monk’s family and let it slip that the scheduled family portrait hour at Sears-equivalent is not my fucking cup of tea. We will definitely not return with enough time to prepare for the visit from my parents next week. The holiday photo card is probably on the back burner for next year- this year the relatives get generic, if anything. Let’s not even talk about the abandoned holiday letter (not that anyone will miss it. Am I the only one that actually likes to get updates from people I don’t bother to keep in touch with on a regular basis?) And the list goes on, people.

And throughout it all, work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work.

So I have no cohesive thoughts. Here are some completely unrelated items from my week:

Dad calls me at the office:

“Please don’t mention the unemployed thing to your brother; he’s taking finals this week.”
“Why would I do that? It’s kind of your thing to tell, isn’t it?”
“Well, your sister told you...”

Decades into our relationship and I am still stamping my feet and crying “I am nothing like her!”


Monk came up with a clever ruse the other night that forced me to answer the phone when his parents called. Later, he brought it to my attention that he has spent years being annoyed that I do not pick up when I see his parents’ number on the caller ID. I guess he’d finally had enough to start a Tense Discussion about it. My philosophy is: your parents, your obligation. Kind of like your heap of food, your meal. I won’t be picking noodles off your plate. I thought it was a well known fact that I am just not a Person Who Shares Things, which does apply, thankyouverymuch, to Parental Phone Call Duty. We need to stop focusing on the brief time period seven years ago in which I was nice to you to get in your pants. We need to move on.


[edited to remove work-related commentary. And there was much rejoicing.]

1 comment:

Blogger Lisa said...

I grit my teeth when I hear that song, "It's the most wonderful time of the year..." Especially while in a store.

Hope the trip is as painfree as possible. And I hope you can at least have a few drinks to keep the family from driving you crazy.

6:37 PM  

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