If you are a person who comes by here every few days to see if there's something new lately (which is to say, if you are Peni R. Griffin), you've been disappointed more often than not lately.
I'm afraid that my blogging output has been curtailed lately on account of how my life lately stinks like natto.
I've been very unhappy lately, in powerful need of a good laugh. And nobody was more surprised than me when Kathe sent me a link to the blog Steve, Don't Eat That! and I found out that Steve could make me laugh.
And boy, did I ever need it.
Thanks, Kathe.
//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "DOn't eat those, man! They'll kill you!"\\
1 comment:
Don't feel bad about not posting on my account. I know how necessary it can be to go incommunicado, and when was the last time I wrote to you?
Damon has a t-shirt for situations like yours. It says: "Oh crap, you're going to try to cheer me up, aren't you?" So I'm not going to make encouraging noises about things getting better. I don't know that it will, and sometimes, things get worse. But I will tell you a story from the depths of my own Year from Hell.
During the period when Damon was bedridden and I was working full time and taking driving lessons, we received strong olfactory evidence that a rat, wounded by our inefficient but enthusiastic cats, had died of his wounds in the closet where Damon keeps his comic book collection. I can barely handle fresh anonymous supermarket meat, but it had to be done, so as Damon slept upstairs I started unloading the comic boxes, telling myself that I had to do this so I could do this, I had to do this so I could do this, I had to do this so I could do this -
And then I pulled out the box that concealed the corpse and I could not do that. It was as if a force field shot up and pushed me back ten feet. I had vinyl gloves and instruments with handles and I had to do it but I could not. So I called Michael, and he wasn't there but his brother Steve that we hardly ever see anymore was, and he came over, disposed of the corpse, and helped me transfer the surviving comics to a fresh box.
A couple of days later I had a driving lesson in which I was supposed to learn to back up straight. I still can't back up reliably - the car just doesn't do what everyone tells me it's supposed to do. So I was backing up, and backing up, and backing up, and going off in all kinds of directions until I started crying, and I just had to sit there shaking until I stopped, and then I told the instructor about the rat and I said: "But this isn't like that. This is learnable. I can do this." And now I have my license, though I still hate driving and, due to the backing up difficulty, I won't park between two other cars.
So when things are too hard, here's something to ask yourself: Is this driving hard, or rat hard? If it's driving hard, take a break and get back to it. If it's rat hard, call somebody.
You'd show up if somebody else called you under those circumstances. Give your friends a chance to do for you what you'd do for them.
Sorry I'm too far away to be on the list of people who get that chance.
Post a Comment