Now, really. Is this me?
I was awfully sarcastic and cynical about the prom. And maybe I mocked a few folks. But I didn’t wear black. (Although I would now.) Nope, for senior prom I wore a white, froofy sort of Jessica McClintock thing. I think we picked it out in about five minutes during a desperation mall run. (Don’t ask.) Personally, I think I still have prom issues, which is why I keep writing about proms in all these books. Just can’t get past the experience, I guess.
Things feel tense today, for understandable reasons. I am house-bound, my car getting its sixty-thousand mile service (just got a phone call saying it will cost at least three hundred bucks, yikes, but oh well gotta do it right?). I am fully capable of spending entire days without leaving the house, do it often actually, but for some reason knowing that I can’t if I wanted to is making me antsy. I think I’m going to have to get productive, clean out my closet or cosmetic drawer or something. There is so much that needs to be done, always.
Do you ever feel like your life has become an endless cycle of laundry? I swear, every day it seems like I’m either starting a load, moving one into the dryer, or procrastinating the fluff and fold of one already in there. Is this what adulthood is really all about? I’m beginning to wonder. My dad used to sing this old folk song called “The Housewife’s Lament,” and it was all about a woman who “sees her whole life as a struggle with dirt.” It had a verse that went:
Life’s a toil, love’s a trouble
Beauty will fail and riches will flee
Pleasures they dwindle and prices they double
And nothing is as I would wish it would be.
Is that depressing, or what? It sounds like the kind of person who would wear that black dress and be morose at the prom. I’m sensing a theme to this entry, actually. But my dad sang all kinds of sad songs that I just never got when I was a kid. I mean, “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” was my fave for an entire summer….and it’s sad. Then there was one about refugees running from the goverment, not to mention endless whaling songs, all about people out at sea missing their wives at home. And Dunderbak, whose wife gets eaten up in the sausage machine? I mean, honestly. Maybe it’s better to not understand what the songs are really about, to just hum along and like the melody. Words make everything more complicated.
I don’t know where I’m going with this. I think I need some coffee.
Have a good day everyone…..