Connections

I'm feeling a major let-down after running that marathon a while back. It's not the greatest thing for your mental energy to go from running 30+ miles every week to running zero. Or, in the case of this week, eleven. Poor me. I'm so out of shape.

Because I've been out every evening for one thing or another (gosh, this unemployment business is getting busier and busier!), I haven't cooked anything all week. So my best solution was to get my brother to help me make cookies. I thought it would be a good idea to add some marshmallows to an already yummy chocolate-peanut-buttery glob of stuff that's really not healthy.

Unfortunately, marshmallows make cookies go pfthththth ....

In Brother's immortal words, they look like bird turds.

But now we have this fabulous idea to crumble them up and mix them in with some homemade chocolate ice cream.Yes, there is a major reason why exercise must be a vital part of my life.

So, on to another subject. I don't generally think it's a good idea to write blog entries of this type, but I think this one will be okay. I hope it comes across in the spirit of fun and slight self-mockery I intend it to, as opposed to a package of whining. Few things are worse than people whose online presence consists of nothing but a whining pity-party.

First, I ask a question: isn't the whole point of having a closet to have a space where you can put all the stuff you don't want anyone to see?

I don't necessarily have skeletons in my closet, but I do have dirty gym clothes and a disorganized pile of odds and ends. It mystifies certain Rational family members that I don't really like it when people go in there; it has become a very emotional issue of late, as we have been undergoing quite a lot of home maintenance, and the only entrance to the attic is—you guessed it—through the ceiling of my closet.

It also happens that I have a lot of clothes that don't go in the dryer, and I had them hung up to dry on hangers in the closet doorway while I went for a brief trip out of town. Who should come over while I was gone, but our A/C guys? Not only did they remove my clothes in such a way that got them covered with attic mess, but the attic mess was all over the floor—not just in and around the closet.

Aaargh!

While I know it's no-one's particular fault, and no-one is specifically out to get me, I still felt violated. I went into the depths of despair and started feeling like a loser because I don't have a job and I just can't get my cover letter right.

What does not having a job have to do with the maintenance dudes messing up my closet and interrupting the drying of my clothes? Absolutely nothing.

Here's the point of this story. When I told my mother, she totally got it. No long drawn-out attempt to make sense of that connection was even necessary.

She is priceless.