WhelmedThis war has me very saddened and angry and frustrated, yet this feeling is not new and I am by no means surprised that things have come to this pass. I have considered this war a foregone conclusion since I first heard tell of it, and the only delays observed by Bush have been the expected niceties of convincing the rest of the world that he is right. The Congress won't oppose him, and nobody else can stop him, so what else could possibly happen?
Am I overwhelmed? Underwhelmed? Perhaps I'm just whelmed. Grandmother is glued to the television now — while I can't bring myself to watch, she can't tear herself away. I don't expect I'll have much of a conversation with her for the next little while. Certainly not after the fervor of our argument this Tuesday over Bush and Iraq... having come to the conclusion, after an hour of impassioned debate, that one either believes in Bush or one does not, and that she does believe in him and I think she and the rest of the country are idiots to so do (but can't prove it), this will have to go into the ever-thickening file of Things We Don't Talk About.
In other news... nothing much is going on right now. After last weekend, I've needed some rest; and having got some (I took the day off yesterday to recover from my post-and-prep as well as my weekend), I need to do some around-the-house kind of crap that is entirely necessary — and therefore entirely boring.
For example, today I have to go to Home Depot and buy a new floaty-valvey-thingy for my toilet, then I have to go home and get all butch and everything to install it. I don't even own a plaid shirt, so I'll have to make do with my Eddie Bauer denim shirt. Once I've completed that task and scratched my balls a few times, I will turn my attention to my bedroom: I'm almost out of underwear, and completely out of t-shirts, so laundry seems to be in order again; also, the boxes and piles in my room are attempting to converge on the center, which turns every trip across the room into an adagio routine, so I suppose I ought to do something about that. Then there's the rest of the house: the carpets are an absolute sight; Grandmother needs me to find out how to return the EuroPro steam cleaner she bought from HSN but for which she has lost the packing labels and receipts, and simultaneously order the larger model (even though she hasn't even tried the first one, in fact probably never will have any use for one, and her only reason for exchanging it is because she wants one like her daughter's); and then, I don't think I've dusted since New Year's, and I have to do something about the mouse carcass in the garage, and perhaps wash a window or two.
So that's what my life is going to be like... I've gone from the Glamorous Queen-About-Town of last weekend to the Workaday Drudge-Boy this weekend. I had some great social invitations this weekend that I've turned down in interest of these petty domestic rituals, though, so I at least get the satisfaction of knowing that I won't be sitting at home dusting on a Saturday night because nobody invited me out... I will instead be foreswearing the glamour and lights of the beau monde in order to help my elderly granny keep a decent home.
It requires a certain amount of skill to make a virtue of necessity; it takes even more skill to create martyrdom from procrastination.
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