I Want To Live a Simple Life

That's the line from a new favorite song that is on repeat in my head. It keeps me calm. It reminds me that I am working toward something.

A couple of weeks ago, I met a guy. Someone I like. Finally.

Last night, he told me that he's dating other women as well. Wanted to know how I felt about that.

When I said that I felt fine, I meant it. I did. But in the light of day, as that chorus circles through my head, I'm not so sure.

I want to live a simple life, and knowing my over-analyzing self as well as I do, this could become complicated.

It probably won't be made better by the fact that he has this blog address and may be reading my confession right now. I made the mistake once, though, of not writing about my dating life, and if I'm going to be more honest with myself about this, I figure being honest with everyone else too is a first step on the road to simplicity.

A Lesson In Sarcasm

"Tom is hitting me with his book!" Dean shouted across the library during our celebration of Teen Read Week.

I could die from tattling.

"Tom," I spoke in my best teacher voice and gave him my best teacher glare. "That is no way to celebrate books and reading. Please, use your hand."

Silence. Pause. Finally, laughter.

They'll get there. Just takes a little patience and training.

Caulk Job

Pre home-ownership, the word caulk was not part of my vocabulary. Now, I say it daily and it has become a measure of my general productivity.

"How was your weekend?" my colleagues ask.

"Good. I caulked the chimney and the shower," I respond.

Friday night at a public restaurant, I shouted the phrase SHODDY CAULK JOB in order to be heard over the hum of the other guests.

Oh. I was heard all right.

Strangers stared.

We burst into laughter.

I'd propose an alternative pronunciation for caulk (rhymes with Hulk), but I've grown rather fond of saying it in professional settings and public places where listeners might just take it out of context.

Caulk, caulk, caulk, caulk, caulk.

Makes me feel a little bit dirty.

"We can take 'em!"

I read this phrase in one of my theory books today: " a pathetic defense of tiny fiefdoms."

Those words made sense to me within the context of hegemony and discourse about which I had been reading, but I couldn't help but picture the Lilliputians defending their castles in a naive display of bravery against skilled giants who squash them upon arrival.

"Run away, stupid little people! What a pathetic defense of your tiny fiefdoms!"

Yeah. That's more fun.

Update

I looked forward all week to my rendezvous with the cable guy on Friday. Like all other things in my life lately, the news was not good.

Presently, there is no cable hook up to my house and the only nearby pole is up on the hill in my backyard. It's not impossible to make the connection to my house down below, but it does require digging and drilling and lord knows what else.

Since he hadn't anticipated the nuances of this job, the cable guy informed me that we had to reschedule our date. We're gonna try again for next Saturday.

In the meantime, without internet access, my blog updates will lack consistency, but not, I hope, flare.

A reason to post even though I'm dead tired and have nothing to say

Thanks, Mary.

Pity Party

It's no secret to anyone who's been around me or talked to me lately that I am stressed out.

Teaching is hard, my house is turning into a money pit, and all I can think about is how I can't find time to work on the Big-Ass Paper despite its looming deadline.

Just when I think I've got it under control, my kids stop acting like human beings with any rational thought whatsoever and I discover that the shower sprays a fine mist all over the basement through the tile.

People have been very kind to me in my frayed state. They say they are sorry about my stress. Please tell them if there's anything they can do. And it will all be okay. Big sis is so worried she dreams that I'm drowning.

Tonight, when the clogged sink in the kitchen put me over the edge and I called my dad to ask if I could give the house back, his reaction calmed me in a way that nothing else has in recent weeks. He laughed. "Welcome to home ownership," he chuckled. "Get yourself a snake."

Even though my I'm-your-little-girl-so-feel-sorry-for-me voice took over as I told him it wasn't funny, that I hated owning a house, and what the hell is a snake, I couldn't help but laugh either. Finally.

So for all who have put up with me of late, thank you. I see the light, if only for this moment, and I promise that I will work on getting over my self-pity. As soon as I find the time.

Universe, what have I ever done to you?

I have a coffee date tomorrow. So, naturally, my skin is dotted with blemishes that weren't there yesterday but will be there tomorrow.