My friend Paula sent me this, and there is just...yeah, I can't begin.
Okay, no, I really can begin. The filthy hippie, that dynamo behind them clapping her hands, THAT WOMAN'S SWEATER, the dummy! Oh, god, the dummy. The choreography.
God, 1972 was a weird time.
Anyway. Another work week is upon us, and yay. Although, really, I worked all weekend, if you consider watching Game of Thrones till your hand gets chopped off and you wear it around your neck work. And who doesn't?
I like it at my job, so going to work is not a dreadful proposition for me. Of course, I SAY that and now today will be awful. But what about you? Do you hate it? Are you stuck there? Why? Or are you jobless and want to bitch slap anyone who even HAS a job? I remember that feeling when I was laid off. Twice in two years. That horrible nagging scary no-money feeling. Oy.
But for me, I've had this job now for a few years, and I'm grateful for it, and even better, I like it. Especially now that my job has changed. It was supposed to be a relatively small change, but so far it's dramatically different and it's great. For me. The Other Copy Editor probably wants to punch me clean in the face.
Today I'm meeting with a friend after work, and tomorrow I have my student, then Wednesday I have my therapist who has had DREADFUL luck lately, and I wish I could just tell you all about the horrible things that've happened to my therapist, because you'd roll back from the desk and say, "Oh my GOD!" but of course I can't do that. You know me and my decorum. I'm here. I'm decorum-y. Get used to it.
I think it's possible that I have nothing to do on Thursday, and I will probably wander from room to room, lost and afraid. Then Friday one of my friends is having a birthday party and there's my week.
I say that like thearpy-ing me isn't dreadful luck as it is. Maybe one day she can write a tell-all book. I Therapied June. By Beleaguered Therapist Susan Johnson.
Her name isn't remotely Susan Johnson. Susan Johnson is Dudley Moore's awful girlfriend in Arthur. "She's quite beautiful when the light hits her just so. Of course, you can't always depend on that light."
All right, I have to get in the shower. I am taking Woof and Mouth Disease to dog day care today, a thing I stupidly mentioned first thing, and as I write this, Edsel has his chin on my lap and is wriggling. we go now? how bout now? Do now be good time?
Last night, Tallulah was illegally in the living room, with her front legs in my lap, and I was scritching her head. It was getting late, and I said, "Tallulah, I think it's time for bed." I expected her to get off me and galumph heavily to her dog bed, but instead she looked at me for a long time, and turned around and went straight up the stairs to our old bed.
And that is how Talu and I slept in my old bed together last night. She had two different woof dreams, where I had to pet her to get her quiet. buf! buf buf buf! she'd say, sort of under her breath. buf buf BUF. She was all jerky, too, like she was really giving someone the business, with the barking and the getting up on her hind-ies. feer lu now. she on hind legses. lu come at you wif three feets of terrur. and three feets of terrier.
She's probably taller than three feet when she's on her hind legs, right? Now I gotta get the tape measure when Ned gets home.
When Ned was a kid, he and his brothers would take his poor mom's yardstick and do whatever boys do with yardsticks. Beat each other, whatever. The point is, they were forever breaking her yardsticks, and she knitted or crocheted or maybe both, and apparently one needs measuring tools for these endeavors.
One day she drove up and opened the car door. Everyone was in the driveway. "Here is my new yardstick," she announced. "This is my yardstick. It is not for fighting with, or playing with, or for using in any way. You are not to touch this yardstick, is that understood?"
And with that, she climbed out of the car, and the yardstick caught on the door frame and snapped in two.
I am so glad I never had boys.
Okay, I am really going. Oh! (Somebody get the sheep hook.) Here's my latest Purple Clover.
