I met a young woman today who had just come back from Uganda and was putting together her photography exhibit and it was quite obvious that life had been treating her well and it was exciting and hopeful and I am so draggy because of this open wound that I didn't even have the energy to shout out, "FOR GOD'S SAKE, CALM DOWN! HORRIBLE THINGS ARE GOING TO HAPPEN TO YOU SOMEDAY. I CAN GUARANTEE THAT BECAUSE THEY HAPPEN TO EVERYONE! AND ESPECIALLY ME. CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I DON'T FEEL WELL? HOW CAN YOU BE SO HAPPY."
And then I realized that I was feeling just a little too sorry for myself. That my inner voice had gotten out of hand. To want someone who is having a good time to NOT have a good time is so wrong and petty. Oh, I am such a small human being. And getting smaller.
Actually, I AM getting smaller. Today for lunch I ate one shrimp. Without sauce. One. A shrimp. One shrimp. And then I started thinking...What if I become really small? Pocket sized. Like Tom Thumb? Or Stuart Little? And I'd have to have a little mouse door to get in and out and I'd be chased by cats and terrorized by rats and I'd have to vie for little crumbs on the floor with my dog and my shoes would be way too big and what if my hair stayed the same size that it is now and didn't shrink with me and I was just a bunch of hair running around the living room and the sound of the vacuum cleaner made me screech with horror but nobody would hear me....................................................
Okay, that was insane. I really need to get rid of this infection. It is sucking the life out of me. And the brains. So Monday I go in and they operate and they take out...Something. Maybe they'll take out my pettiness. Hey, maybe they could replace that with William Faulkner's work ethic. Certainly no harm in asking.
So I sign off for a few days. Don't worry. Be happy.
Just not TOO happy.