Thursday, March 5, 2009

Do I Detect a Theme?


Yesterday was one of those days when I found myself checking the clock, not because it was going too slowly, but because it was ticking away too quickly. Seems like time is doing that a lot lately. I guess it's a function of getting older. MathMan would explain it to me as a matter of percentages, but that's just far too logical.

Oh, and gang? I worked from home again. And had The (sick) Actor home with me - again. You just know how thrilled I was about that. My lip syncing/porn surfing activities were thwarted yet again. I did paid work done and even managed to cross some errands off my to do list (shit! I forgot to call the attorney about the drop dead date for moving out of this house - um hello? denial?).

I even set aside the School of Benign Neglect protocol a time or two when The Actor was feeling well enough to play mumbly-peg with the good steak knives. Even the rules of Benign Neglect are meant to be broken sometimes.

As I drove into town, I kept my eyes peeled for rentals. I really am beginning to fret some about moving. We appear to be waiting until the very last minute to find a place to live. I feel like the mom in Brighton Beach Memoirs when she says "And suppose the house burns down this afternoon. Why do I need an extra quarter pound of butter?" Why do we need another place to live until we absolutely have to leave this house? We can't live in two places at once, right?

MathMan, ever the practical one, mentioned that it might be a good idea for us to spend a little time each evening weeding stuff out and packing things. Oh, I don't dispute that one bit. In fact, I think it's a fine idea. But I've been banned from asking that obnoxious question "who's taking the lead on this?" and so we continue to stare at each other across our laptops, make the occasional move toward lucidity, then go back to mouth breathing in front of blogs and newsfeeds.

It's so very distinct and palpable, the inertia that hugs us to our chairs, we could get it a Social Security number and claim it on our taxes.

So moving day looms - we think. As far as we know, we have about twenty-seven days left. In another incarnation of myself, there would be reams of lists, packing supplies galore, a new abode already secured and ready to be moved into, necessities properly transferred, etc. etc. etc. But not this time. Today, after working, I had a great time talking on the phone to MNMom, whose family is having its own financial struggles. I made dinner.

The aristocracy of Golden Manor even sat down and ate as a family. Wonders might never cease. We were missing The Dancer, though. That seemed symbolic somehow. Talk about denial! I'm still wrapping my mind around the idea that she'll be living away from home in a few months. She's gotten some wonderful scholarship offers, but I don't want to blog about it in detail because she's still waiting for a couple of responses and I don't want to jinx it.

Yesterday, though, as I drove around town taking care of errands, it seemed quite clear to me that our time in this little community isn't long........

Doing errands still has the added challenge of getting in and out of the car. The driver's side door is still stuck and I'm too cheap to fix the damn lemon. Kia can fix it when they get the piece of crap back.

So I continue to climb in and out of the car over the console. In some perverse way, I've grown to appreciate the challenge of it andwhile attempting to avoic impaling myself on the gearshift, spilling a cup of coffee or banging my head on the rear view mirror. Bonus points if I can do it while wearing pumps and extra bonus points if I can do it without catching some body part on the wires attaching the XM radio and bringing it crashing down. This morning, as I climbed out to pump gas (much to the amusement of the guy in the truck next to me), I did spill my coffee. So it's not all just one fabulous minute after another. Reality bites.

Tuesday, I did have one scary moment when the inoperable driver's side door wasn't so charming. I was driving down I75 toward the office when I had the bright idea to take my morning dose of speed. I rifled through my pocketbook, found the little pouch I keep my pill bottle in, opened the bottle and snapped one pill in half. So far so good.

I did the reverse of the fetching and rifling, stuffing the pill bottle back in its little faux leather pouch and dropping it back into the abyss of my purse. Without a thought, I tossed the jagged little half pill to the back of my throat and took a swig of now-cold coffee. At just that moment when I was about to swallow, I felt a tickle in my throat. Trying to clear my throat at the same time I was swallowing the pill served one purpose. It lodged the pill right in my esophagus. For a second I knew it was caught, but I didn't know to what extent. I tried to cough and nothing happened. I wheezed and made a pathetic squeak, realizing that stupid little pill was directly crossways and going nowhere. Trying not to panic, I unscrewed the lid to my water and took a drink with shaking hands. Holy fuck! I couldn't breath! My heart was racing when I felt another cough coming on.

With the second hard cough, the pill flew out of my mouth and hit the car door, landing neatly on the armrest next to me. When I looked down, I swear that evil little pill stuck the landing. I picked it up and examined it as I continued to drive. I thought about throwing it out the window, but decided against it. That pill wasn't going to beat me. I waited a few minutes, clearing my throat and drinking water and then popped that pill again. For good.

And while all of this is going on, all I could think was how I really needed to pee and how when I got to the office, I would have to extricate myself out of the car through the passenger's side, clambering over and out and hoping not to fall or impale or have an accident.

Or worse, what if someone saw me choking, turning blue on the side of the road and tried to help me. There I'd be, trapped in my car - going a lovely shade of azure, pantomiming with the my hands at my throat, the international signal for choking. Help! I'm choking!

Or like some kind of crazed animal, half hanging out the driver's side window, as I try to squeeze through there without falling splat onto the pavement. Or worse, having tried to climb over the console, catching a heel on the XM radio wires, lurching forward to break my fall - hopefully popping the lodged pill from my esophagus, but causing my bladder to give away. The scenarios passing through my head as I choked and coughed and spluttered and hoped with all my might not to wet myself were all pretty much no-win.

Thank goodness it didn't come to that.



For linda. The cowbell explanation. That won't last on the header, of course. Since I can't always be rearranging the furniture, I redecorate the header. It's not so hard on the back and it doesn't scratch the laminate flooring.

33 comments:

  1. Wow. Now that's a post.

    And the video... that may very well go down in history as the last funny skit SNL ever did.

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  2. I'll give you a dollar to write crappier, you're making us look bad.

    As for the packing, don't worry about it. Last time we moved, we waited until about two days before and went gangbusters. Sure, it's annoying as hell and you're sore and angry and edgy for a week, but o, the memories.

    Man, is that skit funny as hell.

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  3. Fuck what an awesome post.

    It made me laugh and cry m'dear friend.

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  4. That was a meaty post. So much going on...

    Mathman has a good idea, no doubt. No one needs to "take the lead" though. Maybe just, one evening, start going through a few things that are close at hand. I bet once you start, others will spontaneously join in.

    Or stand by and gawk. I really have no idea.

    And do you ever do that climbing across the console thing while wearing a short skirt?

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  5. Hard to believe that "more cowbell" business only goes back to 2000. I thought it had been around forever.

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  6. How did you score the "evil little pill stuck the landing", if it stuck the landing it should get at least a 9.6!

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  7. I wish I could help with the packing stuff but... you're looking at the queen of, I guess we're moving tomorrow, let's GO!

    Love the new look. Worried about various scenarios to do with you needing to be extricated from your car.

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  8. Yeah. you're good.... and I have faith that it'll all work out...somehow....

    Love the header picture...love it.... You are happy. Beautiful.

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  9. Somehow when you think you ramble and doth protest too much.........it's so damn good!
    Lisa, I can't help you, I procrastinate every crappy thing that I've ever had to do, and I tend to be like Scarlett and worry about it tomorrow, not one of my better attributes.
    The whole pill choking and having to pee scenario.........oh my god I've been there!!!, well minus the locked up driver door.
    I wish I could help you more, maybe I need to road trip it up to GA and help you pack, it's @ 7-8 hours......do I really like you that much??

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  10. An excellent post, made me smile. Seems its not only me that has vivid imagination this of all kinds of scenarios


    We left it till a fortnight before we moved up here to find a rental. Talk about a major panic. But we did it.
    Good luck in your search.

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  11. One practical tip -- you might want to line up a storage unit, like at Public Storage, so you have a place to shove stuff in a hurry if it looks like you're running out of time for sorting and moving in a more organized fashion.

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  12. don't you know that you are the woman and you are the one who should start all the work--whether that be packing or whatever--and then hope that some of the others will pitch in and help. but hey, don't count too much on that. or just move and don't take anything!

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  13. More cow bell please. Love the new Header! I used to love to move now and then. It give me the opportunity to see all the crap I never use and don't need. It also makes me resolve to stop shopping. I went to Big Lots yesterday for some little piddling thing and spent $75. on new garden shears and gardening gloves, and.... I can't rmember. Already it's just junk I could get rid of and need to store.

    Whenever I ran away from my last husband I took nothing but clothes and books. I always found that to be quite liberating.

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  14. So glad you survived your close call with the pill, and the various imagined scenarios did not take place.

    I hear you on the moving thing. I'm the kind of person who never does anything until it is absolutely necessary so having a whole month would mean I hadn't packed a single box. Good luck, I hate to move! I hope you find a great place to live.

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  15. I think that for now you might be better off staying home and playing with steak knives with The Actor.

    I wouldn't pack till the absolute last minute. But you are a much more organized, get stuff done, human than I am.

    And I love the header.

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  16. I'm glad you weren't done in by pills. That is not a happy ending.

    I love the cowbell header! We have a "more cowbell" bumper sticker.

    The most poignant line here was,
    "It's so very distinct and palpable, the inertia that hugs us to our chairs, we could get it a Social Security number and claim it on our taxes." If you are writing a book for real and not just yanking our chains like with the old man/bra thing, I think you should definitely include that line. All of a sudden, it's like - zing!- Lisa's voice.

    Good luck on finding a bug/rodent/exorbitant price/old wiring - free rental. Will keep fingers crossed for y'all.

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  17. Inertia sminertia... I had our entire closet shelf packed in my head (except for "those things") on the drive home. Then I realized I forgot all those boxes I have been saving for packing in my office. Damn it.

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  18. Is it my bad vision or do Liberality and Utah Savage look an awful lot alike these days? ;-)

    That was a good laugh, Lisa! Thank you. I'm way too serious these days.

    Love,
    Gina

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  19. So that's how people do things. They take speed! Good to know.

    Is this the kind of speed I can buy at the 7-11, or do I need to deal with underworld figures?

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  20. Maybe you can get the kids to help with packing? LIke tell them only things that are packed are moving with you. That might help. Probably better to get some boxes and tackle one room at a time, leaving the kitchen last. Hope this goes smoothly.

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  21. The solution is to wait until the day before the move, then give the whole family the evil little speed pills. Everyone will either be in a drug-induced packing and moving frenzy or you will all choke on the pills and then the packing will be somebody else's problem. ;)

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  22. Well, Mathman made the suggestion to begin sorting and packing, so in my house that means that it's your turn to actually do something constructive. And tell him that mental packing doesn't count! I know that a great place is out there. Get out there and find it.

    I agree with Nan about the storage unit. If all else fails you can shove your stuff there and deal with it at your leisure. I recommended it to a friend who moved to a smaller place and wasn't sure what to take and what to dispose of. She didn't do it, and now she wishes that she had made some different decisions.

    That was a very naughty yet clever pill. Sticking the landing was just taunting after sticking in your throat.

    You've all got big transitions coming up. Be kind to yourselves and each other.

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  23. Packing is harder with no destination in mind. I hope you find a suitable place soon.

    It was a great piece of writing. Randal's right.

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  24. Oh my God, you crack me UP! :) LOVED the whole pill scenario...LOL! :)

    I know that chocking feeling, too--I once choked on a piece of bread at work, and someone had to give me the heimlich. Too freakin' scary!--especially when no one understood at first that I was choking.

    I'll have to blog about that sometime. :)

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  25. I'm hoping you find that perfect, old house with window seats for the pussies, window boxes for you and bird feeders for some feathered friends. A place with wood floors and very reasonable rent with a great owner who just wants a family to take good care of the property.

    SNL's "More Cowbell Skit" is my and my oldest daughters' all-time favorite!

    I wish I could help you pack. Sometimes having a goofy friend around can make a crappy task seem not so bad.

    I think Dusty said what I would say about the post!

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  26. I'm silenced by this.

    And just a little jealous that you were dishing it up with Mnmom on the phone!

    Oh Lisa, I hear you on the ennui. (Oh great, Randall will think I am giving him props or something!)

    Hang in there my beautiful girl.

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  27. I really feel this post - with you, everything in it, I feel it with you. I really do.

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  28. oh lisa, this was such a funny, well not funny but funny, you know what I mean right? tell me you do....I mean about the funny not being funny but funny...

    the 'do I impale or don't I impale' question that ever looms in your life right now, the little speed pill that wouldn't go down but just stopped there, no speeding this time, the cowbell explanation AND the video, which I peed my pants watching and laughing so hard my dh came in to see what was the matter with me-I mean...I'm laughing...

    xoxoxox- as for this moving crap, don't, just don't...

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  29. Speed?
    Are we too jaded to mention the speed? Was it 7-11, OTC speed or something Joan Crawford would have gulped during her 'Mommie Dearest' phase?
    And if you're gulping speed, why is packing an issue? Give me one bennie and I'd pack two houses, then wash the walls with a Q-tip and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol.

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  30. I'm really horrified by your pill-choking accident . . . and the fact that you don't have a house sorted out yet. Lisa, please take care of yourself.

    Fingers crossed on a wonderful (cheap) house rental and The Dancer getting a full-ride scholarship.

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