Sunday, November 20, 2011
I Should Start Smoking Pot
Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh my fucking dear.
I broke my washing machine.
It's sort of a miracle the poor thing hung in this long. I think it's the same one that was in this house when we moved here, seven and a half years ago.
It was probably that last rug and dog bed that did it.
So it's four days before Thanksgiving, I have a bum knee, two clean rooms, a lot of pork in the refrigerator and a broken washing machine.
We ate pork last night. I made a...pig...of myself. I kept saying, Why does it have to taste so damn good? I "fried" up those green tomatoes which had been on the vines when it froze, meaning I pan cooked them in a tiny bit of oil after I'd dipped them in buttermilk and then flour and corn meal and they were delicious and I also cooked a sweet potato with a giant apple and then mashed them up together with some brown sugar and cinnamon and the juice of an orange.
It was sort of the perfect supper, taste-wise.
We are having oatmeal for breakfast. Possibly for lunch and dinner as well.
Back to the washing machine.
Mr. Moon doesn't even want to mess with it. He wants to buy a new one. Fine with me. That one in my tiny closet of a laundry room has washed a million, billion garments and a whole lot of other stuff too.
RIP, dear old appliance.
I'm supposed to go to the Opera House this afternoon. There is a movement afoot to elect me to the board of the Stage Company. I keep saying, "But what will I have to DO?" Okay, I keep whining, "But what will I have to DO?"
"Oh, hardly anything," they tell me.
Somehow I do not really believe them. I am not like Kathleen who was raised to be a good servant of the community. Her mother and father were community LEADERS! They got out there and did things. In the community.
My mother was pretty busy weeping behind a closed door when she wasn't working or cooking or cleaning.
Hey! We all have our place and our function.
But I guess I'll go. I actually did almost get elected to the board once but another woman really, really wanted that job and so I ceded to her. "I'm going to CHANGE things," she whispered in my ear with great and enthusiastic conspiratory breathiness, which was alarming. Then she never came back.
All right. Mr. Moon is about to hand me some paper-work I need to fill out for the lawyer we're about to hire to take Mother's case to force the insurance company to pay the benefits she deserves. Then he's talking about going into town and shopping for a washing machine and stopping at Mother's on the way.
I need about forty-two Ativans.
Happy Sunday, y'all.
P.S. That picture of Keith? Well, it's Sunday. There you go.