 Friday Countdown |
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In my inevitable stresscasing about my trip, I was thinking about asking my doctor to prescribe a xanax or valium or something for the plane to France so I won't be anxious during the ride, but then I just started feeling anxious about THAT, like, what if something bad happens, won't I want to be alert? And the anxiety about a potentially scary flight overrode the thoughts of potential anxiety on a smooth flight, so I decided not to get the medication. And then I changed my mind and got it. And then my friend send me this article and then I told her I thought it was racist bullshit and then she said that a plane to France would be full of fuel and I said for most of the trip we'll be over the ocean and who would want to crash such a plane and she said they could always turn it around and then I told her to fuck off and then I hung up on her. Like, I am way less afraid of terrorists than I am about things like drunk pilots and engine failure. Way to perpetuate the culture of fear! Don't give me something ELSE to be afraid of, Jesus Christ! Speaking of psychos, I don't know when it was that I decided that all strangers are either out to kill me or steal my money. I guess I decided that any stranger could be a killer during the whole serial killer ordeal, and I guess that the older I get I just realize that a lot of people are crooks. Like, the other day I actually doubted my EYE DOCTOR who was advising me what kind of contacts will best fit my evidently very oddly small eyeball because I decided that he was only picking the non-disposable kind because they are more expensive and not because they are smaller and better suited to my eye. Even though the nurse assured me that the disposable ones are more expensive in the long run and I have been wearing the non-disposable kind since I was twelve years old, I was sitting there thinking, they are trying to rook me! And my eyeballs will pay the price! So yeah. I am even suspicious of my eye doctor. So these two very nice young people showed up on my doorstep the other afternoon, and the dogs were barking so loudly at them from the yard that I could not hear what they were saying, so I invited them into my foyer. My neighbors were outside just across the driveway and they are two big guys so I figured if a massacre began within my house that they could break down the door and save me. Anyway, they started talking to me about the federal marriage amendment and I nodded politely and was like, "Dudes, I have already written to my senators and representatives, and I am totally against it," so they were like, "Great! Do you want to donate some money?" And I was like, "........... Uh ........" while thinking, "Criminals! Criminals! Identity thieves!" And they showed me their literature and I decided that they probably were not criminals but two young people volunteering to help with a cause they believe in so I was like, "Well, I have ten dollars in my purse..." and the guy was like, "It would be great if you would want to write a check for $35 and then you could become a member," and I was like, "Well, I don't have my checkbook," (true) so I just gave them cash and then my yahoo email address and wished them luck and they left and that was that. And I think what made me doubt their honesty in addition to my overall apparent distrust in humanity was that I asked them if people had been nice when they had shown up at their doors, and they were like, "OH YEAH, people here are ALWAYS NICE!" And I thought about my community and my brows furrowed and I was like, "Where are y'all from?" and they said, "New Orleans," and I just inherently doubted that people here would be nice to a couple of sweaty hippie-types spouting off about gay rights, but you know? Maybe they have been. Maybe even though they wish all the gays would just get on a boat and move to the island of gaydonia, they have been polite to their faces. Which is altogether sort of troubling but that is another talk show. Or maybe people in my particular neighborhood where a lot of academic types and students and happy young liberals live has been more welcoming to them than those out in the more suburban neighborhoods would be. Anyway, I only gave them cash and a non-last-name email address so I guess even if they were con artists, they don't have any information about me other than the fact that I have two very loud dogs and am dumb enough to let strangers into my house and hand over cash and that I eat Boca Burgers for dinner while wearing fluffy pink Old Navy bedroom slippers. I even thought about contacting their organization to inquire if going door to door is something that its volunteers do but then I just decided that life is too short and to assume that they were good people working for a good cause who had no desire to beat me or rob me blind. This weekend, I need to shop for the rest of the little items I need, mow my yard, make sure my parents have the instructions they need for the house and animals, vacuum the ten tons of dust and fur from my air conditioning filter, and make sure Daisy is okay. She has been a little sicky since she got her shots on Tuesday. She was the most sick on Wednesday, and she seems to be better. At least she's eating and walking at more than .000000000000000000001 miles per hour. She's barking and running a little bit, too, which are her favorite things to do, so I guess she's on the mend. I don't remember her ever acting like this before, but I remember how worried I was about Marley the last time she was vaccinated, and she was fine. I guess maybe as they get older, the shots hit them harder. I have no idea. It's not exactly like 2.5 for a cat or 5 for a dog is old. I can't believe Daisy is five. Five! I have really hated watching her hobble around these last few days while finding her next spot in which to curl up in a fetal position, and on Wednesday night I felt so sorry for her that I let her sleep curled up on my stomach on the couch instead of tucking us in to our respective beds. I started slipping her things like licks of applesauce and bites of Morningstar veggie sausage links because she wouldn't touch her food and I worried that she was so weak because she was STARVING.  Instead of productively packing, I have been spending time scanning things like the report I wrote in the eighth grade, circa 1988, on the topic of the conflict of "Man vs. Supernatural" in This Place Has No Atmosphere. I was very sorry to hear of Paula Danziger's death, especially since I've spent so much time lately poring over all of her old books. (Sophie, a rockin' librarian, wrote first to tell me the sad news.)  I'm pretty proud of my mad artistic skillz, especially how I made Aurora's pink UNITS-inspired belt coordinate with her bow. My sister and I are instant messaging right now. She's in Vienna. The "y" and the "z" are switched on the keyboard. She said that Vienna is really beautiful, and that "Captn. von Trapp REALLZ must have loved Maria to give up all of Baroness Schrader's wealth in this citz!!" About this time in ...
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