The Way Things Are






Do you ever—I mean, have you ever?
2006-09-08, 10:36 a.m.

“Babe, I think it’s time we finally got rid of the mud dauber nest on the fireplace.”

“You’re probably right. I think EB’s ladder (the ladder EB gave him for Christmas) will reach it.”

“Oh. I thought maybe we could borrow your sister’s extension ladder.”

I try to work “borrow your sister’s extension ladder” into as many conversations as possible. The good thing about it is, I am not sure which one of them I am making fun of, and hopefully, I’m managing to make fun of both of them at the same time. Working such a phrase into a conversation is not as easy as it may seem; I find that it’s working my brain much like doing the daily crossword puzzle in ink might. It’s keeping me sharp.


We have had the perfect storm of awesome things come to us in the past couple of days. You see, in South Texas in fall, we start to get some pretty nice days, and wonderfully cool nights. Low humidity, lows in the 60s at night. Crystal clear blue skies in the low 90s during the day. ‘Tis quite awesome, and you are all invited to come down and spend the night.

But what adds to the awesomeness is the screened-in sleeping porch that DW and I have off our bedroom, accessible through stylishly-painted red French doors. I had at one time really thought that we would put some kind of bedding type of furniture out there, and that I would actually, truly sleep out there.

Night before last, DW opened up the French doors to let the cool, dry night air in, and we slept like that all night. It was JUST LIKE sleeping outside, except I was in my room, in my bed, etc etc. I kept saying things like “It was so awesome sleeping on the sleeping porch last night,” and DW would try with all his might to correct me, by saying “You did not sleep on the sleeping porch last night,” and I would double-dog correct him by saying “When we open the French doors and sleep with them open, our bedroom becomes the sleeping porch. We slept outside last night.”

If you know me, and you know you do, then you know that the more preposterous the argument is, the more I can argue it into the ground because logic has no place in such an argument. Let’s just say that DW has NOT A CHANCE IN HELL of winning this one. So anyway, yeah, with the nice weather and all, we’ve totally been sleeping out on the sleeping porch the last few nights.


I really like my new social service coordinator person – Peaches’ replacement “Diane”, which is a big fat lie, because her name is NOT Diane. But yesterday, my phone rings, I answer it in my fake chirpy phone-answering voice, and a hoarse voice whispers at me “WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?” (It was Diane) You gotta love a co-worker who will do that to you. I told her that I like to ask that question in a lurching, drunk braying voice: WHA’ ARE YOOO WEAR’ING?

Work is like, kind of fun these days. More people to talk to. Less interaction with Mike the Creepy Colleague.


It’s funny, isn’t it, how different peoples’ personalities let them get away with different things. For example, let’s take the burning question “What are you wearing?” I figure most anybody in the world could ask me that, and I would laugh, make up something profane or suggestive, like “a seatbelt and a smile”, and we would all laugh and it would mean NOTHING in the grand scheme of things. But if Mike the Creepy Colleague were to ever ever ever ever EVER ask me that, in any way shape or form, even if I showed up at work in some kind of god-awful get-up, and he asked in astonished wonder “what the hell are you wearing?”, it would never be OK. I would never laugh, and it would never mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.

I think it’s a real trick of social awareness to understand your relationship, and know what you can and cannot get away with. That’s my lecture for you all today. Be very aware of what you can and cannot get away with.

Hear me now, and thank me later.


Do you ever—I mean, have you ever made little eyeballs for your staple remover? Shit, there’s really no way to explain this, except to do a little pictorial:



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