Saturday, November 10, 2007

I'm Just Sitting Here With My Cat

I was lying to myself just now about how I would totally get up and get something accomplished if Phae weren't purring and holding me down, but the truth is that I kind of just want to sit here for a bit. There is plenty to do, but my plan for today is to do whatever I feel like doing in terms of chores, though I will probably scrub my skillet even if I don't feel like it. It's been in the sink for days, since that day I was catching up on things and discovered that it needed a long soak. It did need a long soak, I wasn't wrong about that, but maybe not quite as long a soak as it's becoming, long enough for the water to slowly evaporate out of the sink.

One reason I feel justified in just sitting here for now and then just doing whatever chores I feel like doing later is that I put in a pretty long day yesterday. 7:50am to 11:45pm is nothing to sneeze at in my book, so I feel entitled to a day of whateverness. Besides, I already managed to buy three birthday gifts, my Moleskine pocket planner/notebook for 2008, and groceries today. What else do I need to do?

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One thing I definitely do not feel like doing is laundry. One of the two florescent tubes in our laundry room light fixture is going out, so now the room is dim. The tube which is biting the dust flickers weakly, adding to the spooky effect. And do you remember how I foolishly paid attention to The Breed while on the StairMaster last week? I'm not going in there alone.

What will make the list (most likely) is putting together our new basement shelf (hooray for storage!) and hanging up all the clean clothes I've piled on the ironing board this week. I'll also most likely do some internet research on making homemade ketchup without sugar. I'm seriously considering carrying my own little condiment caddy when I go out. It will include a handy little bottle of agave for sweetening coffee and my homemade ketchup, once I make it, that is. I'm a food snob, I guess. I just can't overlook the fact that Heinz makes their ketchup with high fructose corn syrup.

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Lots of people have expressed that they could not go without sugar, and I want to tell you that I'm right there with you. If my face didn't do what it does when I eat sugar, I wouldn't be able to resist either. However, I've seen it all too clearly. It took one single bite of a Halloween treat to inflame and irritate my skin. One. Single. Bite. You'd be regaling the deliciousness of grain-sweetened chocolate peanuts and carrying agave nectar in your handbag if you were me; just trust me on this one.

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A woman who I was chatting with in the handbag section at TJMaxx today asked me, gently, if it would be all right if she asked what happened to my skin. I just told her that it was acne, and she apologized for asking. I said it was all right; she was so gentle and sweet that it wasn't offensive. And it's obvious that something is there; it's not as if it's something that can be covered up or bandaged, like many afflictions. It's right there. I was far more offended when a friend who hadn't seen me in awhile dramatically asked, "MARY, what HAPPENED??" as if I'd been disfigured in an accident or something. I was confused at first, not really knowing what she was talking about. Because, I don't know, people just don't make a big deal out of it. I had to ask her if she meant my skin, and she said yes, and then she said something like, "Well, you're still beautiful to us," which came off as if I had just revealed that other people didn't find me beautiful because of it, and I just...I don't know. I was offended. I am a delicate little flower with sensitive little feelings, apparently. Or maybe it's that I don't consider my acne to be something that robs me of my beauty. Sure, I feel it is a little gross to look at, but I don't feel like it makes me ugly or that other people look at me and think I'm ugly. That's ridiculous. In fact, I find it kind of charming the way children approach it. They ask what it is, and why I have it; they're very direct, but they have no preconceived notions about what it is and how I feel about it, or how others should feel about it, for that matter. Jack and Mary Liz call it my "red dots," which I find to be not only acceptable, but a little fantastic. I'm still who I am, just with polka dots. It kind of makes me more exciting, don't you think?

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It appears the cat has exited the premises, so I suppose I should get up, too. Happy Saturday, everybody. Enjoy your polka dots if you've got 'em.

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