bunt sign

Saturday, January 18, 2003

It's a sobering dose of reality when you see yourself through someone else's eyes. That's especially true if you don't quite measure up.

There was a knock on my door this afternoon, and I could tell when I opened it that the woman standing in front of me was a tea drinker. "We used to run a mediation class here," she said, "and we built a contemplation path." As she looked behind her at my neglected, overgrown garden, I thought, Contemplation path? Then I thought, We?

The only thing you might want to contemplate as you meditate your way through my garden is whether you should have brought a machete. You'd be too busy trying to keep from sinking in the mud to think about any deeper subjects. I've had it in better shape than this, but winter weather kind of catches up with me. It makes things grow, but it also keeps me indoors too much of the time.

She asked if the place might be for sale. I explained that I was a renter, and I pointed out the landlord's house just up the road. I wondered if she wanted me to ask her inside, but I didn't ask. If she sneers at my gardening, she'd be horrified with my housekeeping. After she left, I looked around at the accumulation of clutter and thought, Things. I have too many things. I should spend less time worrying about things and more time meditating.

That's as far as that went. I went back to watching last Wednesday's episode of Angel, where the end of the world takes the shape of an ugly demon and fire falling from the sky. Plus, there were zombies.

Apparently seeing myself through someone else's eyes isn't going to provoke a major lifestyle change. Maybe it's because I reassess my life every time I sit down to write about my day. I'm always second-guessing and otherwise overanalyzing (sometimes instead of just living).

das boot

Massive trunk space. Coming next: instrument panel.

I wonder if the woman who came to my door today would think less of me if she knew the faded old Honda parked in the driveway had been replaced by a sparkly new Saturn. Not that it matters. She might not approve of the fact that I took the long (long, long) way home from the post office today, though - on purpose. And I guess I don't blame her, but there are mitigating circumstances. (Actually, there aren't. I just felt like it.)

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Welcome home to Carol of Suicide Blonde after hip replacement surgery. It's good to have you back.

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"I did it without thinking, and let the guilt sink in later."

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