Scott has now been out of town ten days, and while I have TRULY done an ASTONISHING JOB (for me) of keeping the smoke-belching, lurching machine that is my household going, here at Chez Jackson, the wheels are starting to come off.
TO SUM UP THE SCOTTLESS DAYS SO FAR
Number of times I have considered selling one or both children to Gypsies: 4,567
Number of times I have THREATENED to sell one or both children to Gypsies: 17
Number of children actually sold to Gypsies: 0
Nervous breakdowns: 1.25
Lost items: 22 and counting
Lost items that have since been found: 4
Number of major commitments flaked upon: ZERO. I even managed to do that Nashville radio interview in spite of not having a clear grasp on how TIME AND SPACE work, and mucking up which way time zones go. AGAIN.
DIGRESSION: I am scared that here in the end game, the last two windless days of Scott-less desert, I AM going to flake on something major. Because those 22 lost items, by the way, INCLUDE my SACRED PAPER CALENDAR. Yes! The calendar by which all things that MUST happen are made to happen. Itâ€™s GONE. ZIPPO ZAP. POOF! I have placed it in an alternate dimension, which may or may not be â€œthe trash canâ€ or â€œMy friendâ€™s carâ€ or â€œPlanet Zeebofloop.â€ Gone, Baby, Gone.
ALSO listed among the missing: ALL MY EMAIL FILES. I had well over 30 saved to the in-box that I needed to answer including book club calls I am trying to schedule and stuff from my kidsâ€™ various teachers about holiday things and events and everyoneâ€™s Christmas listâ€¦SCOTT can call those files back when my email DOES this---yes, that IS code for â€œwhen I do this to my emailâ€ files. Heh.--- But he canâ€™t talk me through the file recovery process on the phone without risking ACTUALLY losing them all. SO â€“ If you sent me an e-mail in the last ten days that I have not answered yet (looks significantly at desi) REST ASSURED I am going to answer. Just not til The Finder of Lost Things returns from Arizona.
Number of minor commitments flaked upon: .5 (so far)
Maximum number of alcoholic beverages consumed in a day: 2
Maximum number of mood altering pharmaceuticals prescribed to prevent anxiety consumed: 0
Number of Herbal stress remedies that do actually nothing but that cost a lot gobbled, drunk, huffed or applied: 7
Number of times I have wept out of SHEER self pity: 2
Number of times I have wept because a specific Christmas song came on: 3
Number of times I have wept because I thought of the, BABY DONCHA CRY, Iâ€™M GONNA MAKE A PIE, Iâ€™M GONNA MAKE A PIE WITH A HEART IN A THE MIDDLE song: 0, but it was CLOSE.
Number of times I have wept while watching GEORGE OF THE JUNGLE when the song about why the dog howls at the moon came on and I realized that he RILLY RILLY LOVES HER: 1
Number of friends who have asked: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??? Is it SCOTT being gone, or are you PMSing?: 1
Number of friends I have dismembered with a hatchet and stuffed into garbage bags and buried in the Okefenokee swamp: 0â€¦but it was close.
Number of chapters I have drafted with Scott gone: 1, and I suspect it is a good one that I will actually end up KEEPING A LOT OF!
THANK YOU VERY MUCH. *bows bows bows*
Digression 2: The point five on MINOR commitments flaked upon is for Crazy Farm Plan, because I canâ€™t tell you the whole thing. It is only .5 instead of a TOTAL flake because I will put now the piece I wrote Friday and FULLY PLANNED to expound upon this weekendâ€¦
Crazy Farm Plan was born on a day when my brother was driving me out into the wilds of Alabama to shoot stuff, (research, remember? I have shot to kill a plethora of inanimate objects with every kind of gun I have been able to lay hands on) we passed a mobile home. And he looked with SINCERE LONGING at a teeny tiny little mobile home, the SMALLEST one, a single wide that may have actually been a CAMPER TRAILER, and he said, in the heartfelt tones of a sincere supplicant, â€œLook. My dream house.â€
Sure it was surrounded by the glorious green woods of Alabama the Beautiful---actual state nickname---but that was not the point. Itâ€™s not like my brother and I are all about the nature.
I tend to say, â€œmehâ€ at breathtaking mountain vistas, and I remember when we were kids, my brother would say that when HE grew up and had his OWN house, he was going to rip out all the sod, pour concrete, and then, maybe, if the neighbors complained, he would concede enough to allow THEM to come over and paint the concrete green. That was his ideal lawn.
TO BE CONTINUEDâ€¦