Neurotica I was reading Mimi Smartypants' diary, and she was discussing her paranoia about miscellaneous, unlikely bad shit happening to her little daughter. I'm totally able to relate to this. If Juniper is sleeping in another room, I'm apt to go in to check on her like once every ten to fifteen minutes, and I don't mean the fairly benign need to just see if she has covers on her or if she is about to fall off the bed, but the obesessive compulsion to go and feel if she is still breathing. I'm afraid to take her walking through the orchards, the branches drooping with the bountiful burden of pesticide-laden fruit, although this may be a more well-founded paranoia. When she is in the back seat of the car sleeping, I always have the thought: "It's quiet in here.....too quiet." Once I had the totally irrational delusion, halfway through a two hour drive, that I had actually forgotten the baby at home, that she was sitting lonesomely on the living room rug playing with dust bunnies, like some horrible "Home Alone 16- This Time We're Calling CPS" movie. It is nice to know that, while I may not be normal, at least there are others that are, well.... whatever you would call my particular subspecies of neuroticism. Dippity-do-dah. My parents-in-law, the lovable crackers, took us out to a buffet restaurant for dinner. I sat amongst the buzzing flies and dripping grease, watching the bitchy seniors and fat white lumps of human gravy shove curds of chemical-soaked sustenance into their moist, pink mouths, and into napkins to secret away into their cheap pleather purses for later. I ate some vegetables and still feel like I need a full-body enema and a shower now. I am tired of people asking us when we are going to get our "trailer". It is not a fucking "trailer" you fucking uppity moron, I cannot hook this thing onto the back of my '75 Chevy and haul it into the Ozarks to park behind Auntie's shack. It does not trail behind anything. It is built as well as any new construction is nowadays, and no I don't know when we're going to get our trailer. God help me, I'm eating in buffet restaurants and defending trailer living. Somebody help me, anyway. |