HE'S DISEASED

I received a letter from a collection company recently claiming that Chris owed $89 to someone. I expect that this will still be happening to me in ten years, even twenty. People want their money even if it has to come from beyond the grave. I took the letter out and wrote 'he's deceased' at the bottom. Except then I looked at the word 'deceased' and my brain got confused. I said something like "I feel like I didn't spell that right. Instead of saying 'he's deceased', I feel like it may say he's diseased." So then, I picked up my pen and wrote 'he's dead' under 'he's deceased'. You know... just to clarify. I'm not sure where I'm going with this post. I really just wanted to jot down the above because I found it funny in a sad sarcastic kind of way. 

I've been thinking of a new angle on how to write my story. I thought about writing around my online dating experience. Each chapter could be a date, except maybe not because I didn't really go on that many dates. I do have the first sentence rolling around in my head. Actually it's been rolling around in there for awhile now. As per usual, I just lack the discipline to sit down and write it. In my head, the story plays in a sarcastically funny slap your forehead kind of way. Just imagine a sad widow, slapping a bright sunny smile on her face and trying to make herself interesting for a various slew of men who are either divorced, never married, or married and never divorcing. I really think there's something there. 

I've also been thinking about moving all of the furniture and cleaning under everything. One morning last week, I dropped my earring and it bounced under the bed where my fingers wouldn't reach. I had to use a ruler to fish it out and when I did, it came out with a bunch of dust and cat hair. I eyed the earring with one eye before thoroughly washing it and pouring alcohol all over it. We have mice. They're not getting into the pantry, but still...we have mice. The cat has been earning his keep (sort of) by catching them with the help of the dog. This is what usually happens: The cat is chasing a mouse. Josephine senses this from the bedroom and immediately wants out. I open the door and then the two of them start chasing the mouse. If Josephine catches the mouse, she takes it outside. If the cat catches the mouse, Josephine steals it and takes it outside. At four AM this morning, both of them lost the mouse behind the bookcase. The cat was so pissed off by this that he brought a bird into the house. That he left alive with working wings. 

Really, I am in the mood to clean out everything. Not just the house but myself and I don't mean that I need to drink more kale juice. I'm talking about sweeping out the the creases and crevices of my brain. I'm talking about pulling all of the thoughts and ideas out and setting them down on paper in one giant Chris styled list. I'm talking about making an actual outline for that story and cleaning out a corner of my bedroom for meditation. I've got the most serious case of Spring Fever and I keep thinking of that old saying 'feed a cold, starve a fever'. What do you starve yourself of when you have Spring Fever? Potatoes? Pizza? If you asked me today what I wanted to eat every day this week, my answer would be 'pizza'. I probably need to starve myself of the TV and couch lounging. 

That sounds as awful as taking antibiotics.