Cardboard and Other Tragedies

My vacation has consisted of more drudgery than essay writing. Mr. Sigrun emptied out our storage unit, so I have been shuffling boxes all week. Yesterday, after spending the first half of the day hauling moldy, dusty cardboard boxes around, I decided to go to the mainland to get my husband some food and pick up some vegetables and supplements at the Co-op. As I was getting ready, that spooky little voice in my head said, “You should spruce up a bit because you’re going to run into your German teacher.” I chose to ignore it, after all, there was no reason to believe I should run into him. He lives on the other side of town, I thought, and it’s New Years Day. So I left, in all my grubby, makeup-free glory.

As I was getting ready to leave Fred Meyer, I can’t get down any of the crowded aisles, so I detour through the produce department…

And run smack into my German teacher.

In the words of Charlie Brown, “AUUUGHHH!”

I really need to learn to listen to that voice. It’s always right.

Understand that I am one of those women who does not possess what is called “natural beauty”. I am cursed with dark hair and, for some inexplicable reason, blonde eyebrows and eyelashes. When I leave home without makeup, people tend to ask me “are you feeling alright?” Gee, thanks. I was feeling alright, now I am feeling self-conscious and unattractive. Nice to know my actual face makes me look sick.

Consequently, I spent the entire time I was talking to him trying to hide my weird, burn-victim lack of eyebrows, the smell of basement mold and fried onions, and the fact that I had the worst case of Dorito breath (I had to eat something on the run). I’m sure he thought I was nuts, as I was trying to pull my bangs over my eyes, maintain a 3 ft gap between us, and kept covering my mouth like a Japanese schoolgirl when I spoke.

And he somehow managed to become an even more Fuckable Hobbit over the last 2 weeks. Dammit. Down girl. I keep having to remind myself he’s off limits, but it ain’t easy. I’ve never been one to follow convention when romance is on the line.

Anywhoo, class starts Thursday, and I have some potentially intriguing personal events planned for next week, so I will be returning to posting soon, hopefully with some salacious and scandalous material to share…

Speaking of sharing, here is the song I have had stuck in my head as I have been unpacking boxes all week.


Meh and Other Statements

If all goes according to plan, my posts will be somewhat sporadic for the next 2 weeks. I have a lot of Yule prep to do this week, then The Husband will be off work next week, and I’d kind of like to spend some time with him. I am also working on the 35* ADF essays I have to write. You’d think writing 9 essays about the 9 virtues in the context of Dumezil’s trifunctional hypothesis as it pertains to modern Druidry would be a snap. Go figure. I am also still hard at work on “Der Erlkönig” and trying not to forget all the German I have learned.

In other news, we saw “The Hobbit” on Saturday. It was fairly good. Peter Jackson makes a pretty film, Martin Freeman is nerdgasmingly hot, and the movie is very charming. I must be the only Heathen on Earth who isn’t obsessed with Tolkien. I mean, I love what he’s done with the mythos and the language, but I just find his work to be one big sausage fest. I find I have zero interest in stories without any significant female presence. And if you say “what about Arwen, Eowyn, and Galadriel?” I will poke you with a stick. Bit parts, supporting cast, whatever. Meh.

In other (completely unrelated) news my acupuncturist gave me a new topical herbal medication that makes me smell like rhubarb and maple syrup. And not in a good way. This statement serves no purpose other than the fact that the smell is so pervasive it is taking over my brain. Being a perpetual patient is tiresome.

So it goes.**

*That is, indeed, 35 essays. I counted.

**My reliance on this Vonnegut quote becomes more and more constant as I get older. Some people fight middle age, some people embrace it, I seem to face it with a weary eye-roll.

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