Saturday, May 30, 2009

OoooooKAY! Here I AM!!

Oh my good golly. It's 11:46 pm and I just went to bed, after having written the beginning of a post and then stopping because it was too late, but once I wedged my earplugs in and put the pillow over my head I realized I was--am--totally, wildly, kung-fu-crazily WIRED!!!

Aye caramba, she is wired
Aye caramba, she is weird
Aye caramba, her boobs are huge
Aye caramba, she has a beard

Well okay. Here we are. There are some things I wanted to write about today, but I got caught in the grips of a delicious domestic frenzy, and except for a brief intermission to roast a chicken and eat its entire skin, I didn't stop scrubbing the house with a (Joedy's) toothbrush until just a little while ago. And although I really wanted to write I thought it would be wise to not do the whole late-night-writing thing again. But alas! And alack! I guess tomorrow's eye bags are meant to be.

I wanted to write about the traipse I took with Diablo and Astrid this morning. It was cold and gray out, so heavily foggy it almost felt like it was raining, so I wore two pairs of pants, and my legs were first freezing but then perfectly temperate. That's not really what I wanted to say about the walk, though: what I wanted to say was that I left the house feeling like kicking the dogs because they kept tangling their leashes (and because I'd had too much coffee), but by the time we got to this deserted, rocky, low-tidey, bleak, frigid beach I loved the dogs. We walked along the beach and clambered over rocks and forded a fjord of sewer water and they were my best furry buddies again--the perfect companions for an otherwise lonely and lovely morning walk. People often talk about how great dogs are because they (dogs) are, like, always ecstatic when they (people) come home from work; dogs are always adoring of their masters, no matter what. Diablo and Astrid are no exception--even if I'm a total asshole to them, which I am now and then, they give me kisses with their little noses and look at me with their intelligent brown eyes and I'm touched and humbled.

When I came home I was at first overwhelmed by the huge number of domestic duties that needed to be done, but Joedy and I tackled them together and it became fun. I sort of felt like we were "playing house" (I know that sounds dumb), and in fact while I was scrubbing chocolate stains out of Lula's clothes and she was hanging out with me in the garage, reading Humpty Dumpty aloud in this very messed-up but very cute way, I had a flash of incredulousness about my situation: namely, that I have two children, I'm married, I'm thirty-five, etc. As David Byrne would say, how did I get here? By following the Yellow Brick Road, apparently, and now here I am, scrubbing stains out of laundry while a five-year-old girl reads to me and a two-month-old boy wiggles in his bassinet and bats at the air with plump clammy fists. Here I am roasting a chicken--how bizarrely normal and motherish! Here I am dumping the contents of the bathroom drawers on the rug, then vacuuming the insides of the drawers--how freakishly neat and parental! Here I am unfolding all the laundry my husband folded and folding it again so it's "perfect"--how passive-aggressive and stupid!

Speaking of stupid, I ate a quesadilla and the cheese is making my throat feel all mucousy and stupid. And my feet are cold and kind of stupid. And it's--OMF'gG--1:37 am, and egads! I will be very tired and grumpy and stupid come yonder morn, when I'll demand coffee in bed because hey, I'm providing the milk, after all, and, speaking of milk...holy jesus. They are huge. And stupid.

And on that note, while the house is quiet save for Lapis' snores, and I've said what I wanted to say about most of my day, I'm retiring, by Jove, and by Golly, and Gee.

Tweedle Dum, my friends, but don't Twiddle your Chi!

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