Now that I have forever destroyed your ability to trust, I can get on with my story. Over the weekend, I organized my sock drawer. I can see you reaching for the red X in the top right hand corner, but it had to be done. I couldn't find any matching socks or any underwear. Too much information. Moving on. I organized my whole dresser, actually. And since I know you're wondering; yes, my closet is hung by color and clothing type. My 200 disc CD wallet is alphabetized, as are the DVD shelves. My book case is organized thematically and also by book type, which is to say, hardcover, trade paper, mass market, odd sized... You get the idea. I am completely unhinged. I build cities out of Duplo blocks where the main criterion is that each building be all. One. COLOR!!!!!
I really don't understand how the separate entities that are "me" can coexist in one brain. Not comfortably, let me tell you. Once I start cleaning, I find it almost literally impossible to sit down until I fall down. Cleaning, for me, is a feast or famine thing. Daily maintenance, my derriere. Wait until it looks like there was an avalanche, and then go at it like a ninja. What? This is a blog. I'm perfectly within my rights to mix metaphors.
What I'm getting at is that I don't really like being this way. I try to be organized, but some demented inner part of me rebels, like the Gollum within. And that is the part that says, "Break all the dishes! I'm going for a hike!" Then, while Gollum and I are hiking happily, catching raw fish, and writing poems, Smeagol pops its melanin deficient little nose up in the air and says, "Kids! There's no need to actually roll in the mud!" But Gollum thinks there is.
Gollum also sees no need to file the paid bills in the filing cabinet. Ever. Smeagol gets violent when it can't find proof that it did, in fact, pay last month's phone bill, my precccciousssss. This is the duality that I live with. Anyway, I think that Smeagol thinks that Gollum has been winning of late, what with all the poetry and all. That's why Smeagol needed to organize the sock drawer. And the tee drawer, the jammy drawer, the tank top drawer, the husband's closet, and the guest bedroom. Freakin' Smeagol! Go annoy a Hobbit, already! Gollum and I are flipping out because we want to write some gosh. Darned. POEMS! (Or make some jewelry or design greeting cards out of paint swatches or build with Legos or go for a hike or......)
What I'm getting at is that I don't really like being this way. I try to be organized, but some demented inner part of me rebels, like the Gollum within. And that is the part that says, "Break all the dishes! I'm going for a hike!" Then, while Gollum and I are hiking happily, catching raw fish, and writing poems, Smeagol pops its melanin deficient little nose up in the air and says, "Kids! There's no need to actually roll in the mud!" But Gollum thinks there is.
Gollum also sees no need to file the paid bills in the filing cabinet. Ever. Smeagol gets violent when it can't find proof that it did, in fact, pay last month's phone bill, my precccciousssss. This is the duality that I live with. Anyway, I think that Smeagol thinks that Gollum has been winning of late, what with all the poetry and all. That's why Smeagol needed to organize the sock drawer. And the tee drawer, the jammy drawer, the tank top drawer, the husband's closet, and the guest bedroom. Freakin' Smeagol! Go annoy a Hobbit, already! Gollum and I are flipping out because we want to write some gosh. Darned. POEMS! (Or make some jewelry or design greeting cards out of paint swatches or build with Legos or go for a hike or......)
Poemless
At home
my aimless mind
writes poemless lines.
Homeless, under
trees or sky,
my lines take aim
to fly.
(my preccciousssss....)
(P.S. Elaine, you can call Jon to translate that for you. I never have to know. :D )
No comments:
Post a Comment