Did you know that our National Anthem has four verses? Holy crap. We, as Americans, are challenged to remember just one verse, let alone memorize all four stanzas of a poem that has such tricky words like ramparts and perilous and, and, and red. Tough stuff, that Star-Spangled Banner. We’d rather sit on the couch and watch “The Real Housewives of WhoGivesARat’sAss” than face the verbosity of a poem written by a lawyer in 1814. And, mistakenly, I always thought the song ended with a rousing yell to “PLAY BALL!” I had no idea that there were other verses. My bad.
As I was writing this first paragraph I thought to myself, “How cool would it be to have a Real Housewives of Historical Figures?” I can totally imagine Susan B Anthony (I know, she never married, but that never stopped BRAVO from casting their choices), Harriet Tubman, Annie Oakley and Mary Baker Eddy getting together and having some Victorian throw-downs. Oh, okay, my timing might be off, but it’s a good argument for reanimation of the dead. Ooooh! Real ZOMBIE Housewives of Historical Figures. This idea just keeps getting better. From there it can spin off into Real Housewives of American Presidents. I’d love to watch an episode where Martha Washington, Eleanor Roosevelt and Hillary Clinton scrap over whose china is prettier, wouldn’t you? Of course, we’ll have to throw in the occasional Whig. I’m so pitching this to BRAVO. I think this is the big break I’ve been waiting for. Now I just need to find someone to help me with the reanimation piece.
Okay, I’m pulling back from my warped fantasy land where my “brain director,” Steve, reigns supreme and giving myself a little reality check. Let’s see. I only posted once last month… THAT will be changing. I’ve been writing daily – thanks to the encouragement from my good friend, James, but it’s not really stuff that’s fit for posting. I need to get back in the groove but so many things have been making my needle jump track. Life has been so distracting lately, with trying to organize my apartment, doing the job hunt thing, planning the next trip to NYC for Ben’s therapy (hopefully there will only be THREE MORE of these torture sessions for him!), and just all the stuff that doesn’t want to cooperate with the flow of daily life. Like my dog forgetting how to poop outside. And laundry.
Speaking of which, I need to go. Laundry is staring at me and I’m quite confident that if I don’t take Yoshi out in the next five minutes he’s going to leave me another surprise. He has gotten better. I’m sure it’s simply an adjustment period to the new apartment, but we’ve still got a little work to do. Honestly, we’re all working on adjusting.
I’m just glad my anxiety manifests in other ways besides little piles of poop.