Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
"We Three"
Sunday, August 01, 2010
Art imitates life. Duh.
Once upon a time, when I thought my artform was writing, I began a novel about a woman who was intimidated by her kitchen appliances. And, being the spiritually awakened person that I am, I caught myself yelling at my microwave yesterday. Now, this is my third microwave in my five years here. I use that sucker several times a day, for hot beverages, little low-calorie frozen dinners, to defrost two little chicken tenders for my evening taco. Okay, that's really TMI about my tiny life here in the little yellow house. Whatever, I had heated up a cup of yesterday's coffee, and in the 1 minute 10 seconds that took, got busy with other things. This new microwave continues to beep at me intermittently until it gets my attention. So I screamed from the bedroom "I'm coming! Just shut up!". I want my original microwave back, the one that told me to have a nice day every time I used it. The problem with living in the light is that it falls on EVERYTHING, even into those dusty cracks you hope to never see again. Next step is to learn to love my eccentricities. And figure out what to do with that deep fat fryer my brother gave me last Christmas.
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