Oh my friends. I have been delinquent.
I haven’t written to you in two weeks. Or three, one could argue. We all have our less fine moments. Mine occur at a 2:1 ratio to fine moments, which is a significant improvement over 2012’s 5:1. I hope Paul will forgive me. The truth is, I’ve been in Florida.
Don’t be ridiculous. I mean, psychologically, I’ve been in Florida. In case you’ve never been, let me tell you the thing about Florida.
It is godawful bad.
People come here to die.
Wherever you step, drive, or lay your head the earth is wont to swallow you.
Life is a swamp.
In this Florida weather the simplest tasks require all the effort of parenting two toddlers and a teenager at Disney World.
By midday you are too tired, too sweaty, too daily-ground, to manage cooking, dishes, laundry, the internet. Your personal hygiene does seem to be hanging on by a sponge bath- good on you, grown-up.
After nearly ten days of hiatus in Florida I was so eager to find an acceptable topic and write something, I began composing haiku for disgruntled politicians.
In the beginning,
Some person who loved you said
“Please go with ‘Wine-er'”
That really happened. You say the word and I will perform this semi-weekly crack commentary in just seventeen syllables.
I know what you’re thinking. “No. Don’t do that.”
And maybe you’re thinking, “What is wrong with you and could it happen to me?”
Out-of-state diversions are not the same for everyone. For every proud Floridian I would be offending if any of them read this blog, there are as many people whose personal hell is New York City. These people like open spaces and dislike the smell of urine. Wonders never cease.
I can’t tell you exactly what to do about these unpaid vacations, wherever they might take you. I can only offer the few things showing me the light at the surface of the gator pool.
Mood boosters help. Weary travelers, a cocktail never hurt anyone.
Accountability helps. Look around and you’ll notice I have this group of man-guys telling me, “You are supposed to be typing words at the interpeople on our thing once a week! Is that too much to ask, emotional woman girl periods?” They’re actually nicer to me than that, and slightly more coherent.
A mantra helps: Florida is not forever. The muck-dwelling lizards have you now, but your compass will point North again! When it does, run you poor bastard. Run and be wary. It’s hard work not getting lost. Maybe next time, when everyone is wondering what’s become of you, text message “SUNSHINE STATE” and they will nod, back away, and send wine. I wish you luck.
This has been a meandering hybrid of an apology, state of the union, and advice from the unqualified. But, I’ll have you know that I’ve already dreamed up a topic for next week and it is certain to be adequate.
This train is
back on track! having its twisted metal parts inventoried for reconstruction by a small army of rail workers.
Interpeople want read good, typey lady!
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