Wednesday, September 28, 2011

The votes are in

The votes are in, and fixing the car won by a clear margin, so the car is in the shop.  That’s how voting works.  If you put it to a vote, you abide by the results, and don’t keep calling for recounts and redistricting and getting all weasel-y.

Let it be known that even though I voted against the fix, I did it anyway.  Don’t think too hard about that please.  At least I know right away that it’s really weird, which I believe is a sign of mental health right there, correct?  At the moment, I’m driving an enormous Nissan Sentra with adjustable cup holders, which doesn’t seem like a thing that should exist on this earth.  I get the sense that the repair might take a long time, because Marcia, the kindly woman at the repair shop told me she’d send me e-mail updates every Tuesday and Thursday about how it’s going.

I have no way of knowing if people’s votes mean, “Oh, please please please please don’t let her write about the economy and other boring stuff that she knows nothing about,” or whether it’s just a Germanic need to clean things up, fight off entropy.  The mattress came in second, and without revealing too much, let’s just say that there’s not very much room under there.



I promise that I'll find an interesting topic soon.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Please advise

I'm not very interested in the ins and outs of the economy.  I vaguely understand the basics of this whole disaster, but let's review.  I promise it won't be tedious all the way through.  Skip ahead if you bore easily.

Mortgages were a good money maker, so banks sold tons of them, and when they ran out of people who qualified for loans, they just let everyone have one so they had more to sell.  Which sounds odd -- if you're in the business of wanting to get paid back, why loan to people who aren't likely to do so?  For example, I'm unlikely to loan money to that guy loafing on my couch.  But mortgages were sold and resold and bundled in groups, and it got hard to tell exactly what you were buying.  One guy loafing on the couch was mixed in with four working guys, but they got increasingly diluted by couch guys as time went on.

Remember when they used to sell mystery boxes at thruway rest areas? You could get a girl box or a boy box, and the contents weren't revealed until you paid, but you were pretty sure it was going to be amazing-- I always assumed it would contain a pony, or at least a saddle.  And every single time, it turned out to have a comb and a small mirror in it.  It's like that, but instead of being labeled boy boxes and girl boxes, the mortgage-backed securities were rated AAA, or AA, etc.  (Not to stray from the topic, but what was in the boy box?)

Anyway, one out of five mortgages were pretty sketchy.  Sketchy meaning people without jobs were able to purchase half a million dollar homes.  When people couldn't make their payments, because duh, they didn't have the income, the whole thing started to collapse, causing a bunch of banks to fail, and more people lost their jobs, so even more people couldn't pay on their loans.  Think snowball rolling downhill, or, if you want to get really depressed, glaciers melting.  I know, this is old news.

But here we still are, apparently in a double-dip recession (does that sound edible to anyone else?)   The fed is keeping interest rates low so that people will be lured back to the market again, but everyone's too chicken because Greece is about to fail, we owe tons of money to China, one out of ten people who want work can't get a job, and that 12 year old girl suffered brain damage from the HPV vaccine.  Oh wait, that didn't really happen.  But the rest, yes, so the mattress seems better than the market.  But the only way out of this mess is for people to invest in the market.

Which brings me to the point.  I mostly sat out the 90's, when people made and lost serious money in the market, because I was busy with babies and had no money and so on.  I sat out the 2000's, because I was a single mother working part time and trying to be in too many places at the same time and buy braces for the teeth of the children and so on.  Now that it's the 2010's, and the market looks like a done deal and all the smart people are getting out of it, I think maybe I should get in.  Is the stock market today the victory garden of the 1940's? 

Let's go back to my chore list for a second, which, I'm sad to say, I haven't made much progress on.  The pest people came out and treated for ants, but they weren't sure if I even have ants.  The gutter people have said they can't put gutters on my particular roof.  The insurance company doesn't seem to be home when I call about getting the damage to my car fixed.  And so on.  We could sum it up as lots of effort, zero progress.  But I did get an estimate for the car repair, and the shop said it will be somewhere around $2,600 plus a rental car for 10 days.

I started thinking, as the Dow was in a big free fall this week, that it might be good to just take the cash from the insurance company, and throw it in the market, and write about that.  I did what I always do when I want encouragement to do something kind of risky and stupid that I'm not particularly qualified for:  texted B.

"Thinking of investing.  Comments?"

"DEFINITELY.  GO FOR IT.  ETF's. 

I have no idea what an ETF is, so I googled it, and learned that it's the next toxic scandal.  So I thought I should ask you guys.  Please use the poll to the right (top of page), or comment.  You might need a little more information, though, so here it is.  The car is a formerly very cute Scion xA, 2005.  I plan to drive it as long as I can.  The injury is unsightly, but doesn't affect the functioning at all.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Sheer Amazement issue

Aries (3/21 – 4/19): We were wondering why this certain park is called Wilmott Gateway Park the other day.  Turns out it really is a gateway park.  Start here, and pretty soon, you'll be going to other parks.  Maybe even national parks, if you can stand all that government involvement in your life.  Don't say I didn't warn you.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  I had to fill out a form at work the other day, and the guy who took the information, whom I've known for about 10 years, asked my middle initial, so I turned the question around because I'm on a kick of using the most boring conversation starters ever.  Where could that possibly go, I thought to myself.  But he says, "well, all I got was a middle initial. I didn't even get a name."

I questioned him about that, because seriously?  Besides the obvious, like what kind of lazy-ass parents do that, there's the math of it all.  How does something become the middle when there's nothing in front of it? An open-faced sandwich is not a sandwich, people!

He explained that he was actually named something like Addison, after his father's friend named Greg, but he just went by the letter "T" until he was much older.  Got that?   Let's go over it one more time.  He actually did get a name, Addison, although I know him by Dennison.  But he was told that he was named after Leonard.  I think the oddest part besides all of it is that he calls that just getting the middle initial, "T", which he went by for many years.  The point, dear friends, is this:  even the most boring conversation started can get you somewhere.  Test drive that thought this week.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): The ladies on Slate's Double X podcast were talking about the need for better PR for the IUD, because although it's the safest, most reliable form of birth control, only 5 percent of women use it.  Freaky.  Why would that be?  Oh, wait, I have an idea:  could it possibly be because women get a little nervous about a piece of coiled copper being (painfully) inserted into their uterus that prevents pregnancy through unknown mysteries related to a mild irritation of the uterus?  That could have something to do with it.  As Jessie said, "Science fiction going on in my vagina?  No thank you."  Who made that up, by the way?  "I've got an idea.  Just relax, it should only hurt for a minute, I'm just gonna stick this piece of metal in there. . . Anyway, this week won't even hurt for a minute, Gemini.  You're golden.

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21: Should we laugh or cry about this, Cancer?  According to a Baylor University study, reported all over the internet, "About one in five Americans combine a view of God as actively engaged in daily workings of the world with an economic conservative view that opposes government regulation and champions the free market as a matter of faith."  Really?  I hope rapture really happens this time.  

Leo (7/23 – 8/22): So many amazing things about this, Leo.  First, 50-year-old bride in white.  Then she gets arrested for identity theft during her own wedding.  Could that picture represent a stolen identity?  Anything is possible, is the point. Step out of your comfort zone just a little bit this week.  Please don't wear that dress though. Enough is enough.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22)
:  The rant I posted on my blog last week got attention from Random People, which was fun and heady for a few days, especially because no one said anything unkind.  The disagree-ers quietly went about their disagreeing, and the only even slightly critical thing that came my way was a fond reproach from my uncle wondering if I really needed to use the f word to make my point.  Now my hit counter can relax again -- it’s back to the usual, “hmm, not very many hits  -- is Todd on vacation again?  Did PC oversleep?"  This is gonna be a grand week for you hard working Virgos.  

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  In an effort to simplify, I've kept it down to just having Yard Pets.  The bunny that lives out there is named Jeffrey, and there's a deer who doesn't want her name revealed in this blog, and so on.  They feed themselves, and if I go away for a day or two, I just mention it, but I don't need to make arrangements.  When they're injured or sick, I suppose they just talk to the other animals about it.  They never come whining to me.  Libra, let's see what else we can do this way -- having more self-sufficient nouns in our lives that hang out in the yard.  Dishes?  Bills?  (Is this the thinking that got Appalachia started?)

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  They say that in every relationship, there's a reacher and a settler.  The problem arises when the reacher thinks they're the settler, and they get all condescendingly apologetic, explaining that they have to move along.  On behalf of Scorpios everywhere, I'd just like to say, you people are the settlers, and the reach was so high that the reacher didn't even realize what was going on.  Maddening, but far better to be the gracious settler than the condescending reacher who mistakenly believes him/herself to be the settler.  If you followed that, scroll back and read the Taurus horoscope.  (Is this turning into one of those, "choose your own adventure" horoscopes?)

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  People are going nuts over the changes to FB, have you noticed?  I think it's just one more way for us to express our fear of death, but that's just what I think.  Other people think it's because FB was perfect before, just the way they wanted it, and now it's different.  Stuff happens, Sag.  Get used to it, be a friend of change, and fo' sho' don't get caught up in a bunch of first world problems. 

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): R. was talking about the kind of teacher who, when you ask a legit question, says, "Why don't you tell me what you think?"  "Mom, are you familiar with just what kind of rage goes on when you get that answer?"  I think I know what he means, Cap.  Just give out the answers this week.  Don't make us work so hard.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): Speaking of working hard, I would like to mention one other thing.  R. was sitting on the couch begging me to walk out to his car to retrieve his backpack so he could do his homework.  When I declined, he got all, "wow Mom, I'm not even gonna call you if I get addicted to some really serious drug, because it's clear that I can hardly count on you for support."  Aquarius, can I count on you for support?  Just say yes already.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  Writing is so hard sometimes.  Most of the time.  It's usually like crawling naked up a steep blackberry-covered hillside on a hot day, and the blackberries aren't even ripe yet, and you don't even know why you're out there in the first place.  And you try to tell someone about it, and they just look at you like what is wrong with her?  Could this be solved, maybe there's an intervention or something. . .   But every so often, it’s not like that.  This will be that rare week, Pisces.  Go for it.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

What's up with all the haters?

Will people who hate the government get increasingly pissy and eventually dismantle the whole grand experiment?  They have nothing to gain by helping government to be successful, because their entire point is to prove that it’s a wasteful, sucking, harmful, intrusive machine.  The more they make that true, the better they look.  It’s like negotiating with a recalcitrant four-year old, who, when you try to take a walk, get’s all zombie-legged and whines, “But I can’t.  My legs don’t work….”  And of course it becomes true, because for legs to work, the person attached to them has to be willing to try. 

The democracy idea assumes that reasonable thoughtful people will honestly show up at the negotiating table ready to listen, learn, understand, compromise, and stand firm when that’s the right thing to do.  Who would have envisioned that we’d elect a bunch of nay-sayers who just want to stop everything?

Will the tea-partiers, who claim to have “Christian values” demonstrate even more blatantly that they couldn’t give a rat’s ass about their neighbor, especially if he has ever been down on his luck, or worships a different (or no) god? 

Do they truly not get that government is the only way to provide things we all rely on, like highways, a justice system, fire protection, roads, safe drinking water, disaster planning, healthcare for senior citizens, parks, and free public education?  When did all of that get such a bad name? 

Besides the ignorance, bullying, and lack of commitment to the truth, I think it’s the hypocrisy that bugs me the most.  (That, and the bad hair.  But let's leave that out of it for now.) Have these people ever had a relative on social security?  Would they accept unemployment if their job ended?  Of course they would.

Have they ever used a medical treatment or a pharmaceutical that was funded in part by government research?  Or had a car accident that was less severe than it could have been due to those intrusive seatbelt and speed limit laws?  Of course they have.

Did they care when Bush wracked up the debt through unwarranted war?  Um, no, it didn't seem to be a problem when Bush doubled the national debt, or Reagan tripled it.

I get worked up over all of this, but then I succumb to outrage fatigue.  How long can we sustain anger at the extreme hypocrisy of the right-wing without wanting to just switch the station, crack open another beer, listen to some music, focus on something a little more positive and hopeful?

Because it’s just so maddening.  The people who want Obama to fail don’t care who they take down with him, even if it’s the entire, reasonably successful dream of a democratic government that’s actually done pretty well for 230+ years.  They aren’t interested in dialog or honest negotiation.  Collaboration has been labeled “weak” (didn’t that used to be called statesmanship?), changing your opinion based on new information is called “waffling”, and science has become a pansy-assed pursuit of the Ivory Tower intellectuals who have no relevance in the real world.  They purport that evolution hasn’t been proven, scientists are still debating climate change, and all government spending is a waste of money.

Fine then.  Go sit at home in the dark eating tainted beef and reading the federalist papers.  Just don’t call me a liberal hater because I’m okay with being regulated, and I actually believe that government is the only entity that can and should tackle certain aspects of our health and well-being, and can make even the tiniest dent in leveling the playing field so that people who weren’t born into good circumstances can still have a crack at a decent life.

Seven percent of the population in the US is employed by the government.  Besides the obvious (those people have jobs, pay taxes, buy stuff, hire consultants, contractors and service people), they’re also paid to care about things that you don’t have time for, like groundwater decline and massive flu epidemics and contaminated soil and fair working conditions and how to number the streets so that 9-1-1 can find you.  Things that the right twists to sound all weird and golden gavel-ish, because to study anything scientifically, there are a many dead ends, or a few things where the practical application doesn’t become understood until later.  That’s what science is.  If you already knew the answer and where you were going, they’d call it the bible.

A weird sidebar: there’s a new resident at Lake M. who’s been shooting at beavers from the shoreline of their giant new house.  They are undeterred by kids swimming in the water nearby.   Picture the Clampetts, but without the baling twine belts. Why am I’m bringing this up here? I don’t know.  I guess since I’m already on a tear about ignorance, I might as well mention them.

I’m just wondering how the hell everyone suddenly got so weird and ignorant.  Seriously, you buy a lakefront home and then shoot the wildlife that lives in the lake?

Maybe I’m getting old. But I remember thinking as a naïve little kid, “wow.  All this is free.  This is pretty cool.”  Then I learned about all the other stuff, like corporate greed and corrupt politicians, but still, it seemed like a damn good system, because Nixon freakin’ resigned.   Right?  Not that no one does anything wrong, but the system works.   Of course it’s not perfect, and there are a million things wrong with the way government does business.  But it’s a start, and it's a system that allows for self-correction.

I don’t think I had a green grape until I was out of the house, because my mom did whatever Cesar Chavez said to do for the workers.  At least there was something to do, even if it was just not eating grapes.

Now, I can’t think of a single thing to do.   This rabid group isn’t interested in data, facts, reason, hearing another side.  These are people who don’t think evolution should be taught in schools, because they don’t “believe” in it.  What’s to believe in?  We can watch it happen.  Think penicillin.  There’s no discussing stuff with people who think that the fossil record was placed by god to test the strength of belief.  Really? If there is a god, why would he/she give us these great brains, put out a giant puzzle, and then punish us if we assemble the pieces to understand an exquisitely consistent, remarkable story -- the history of the universe?

Can we change this mean-spirited culture?  Sure.  Remember when it was normal for people to smoke inside private homes and restaurants?  Or when recycling was just something that weirdo tree-huggers did?  But now, people would be pretty embarrassed to get caught tossing a can out the window.  Maybe we can make it that awkward to hate the government.

I’m going to, in my own tiny way, remind people that we’re pretty damn lucky to have a government that we get to vote for, that has a bunch of excellent programs that work. Every day, as much as I can slip it in, I’m going to say, “wow, that’s good government.”  Because a million times each day, that would apply - - buying safe food, getting a book from the library (any book, even if it’s about overthrowing the government!), being able to look at a map online of meth labs or superfund sites, having someone to call when the neighbors are taking potshots at the beavers with a handgun, having the school children safely transported to the free schools.  Maybe people have forgotten what we get for our ridiculously low taxes.  Maybe people will start feeling embarrassed about complaining, and instead, would see the problems and engage in solving them, because what else is there to do?

That, and contacting your congressperson about the Jobs Act.

End of rant.  For now.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Chore extravagence

I sometimes think we’ve traded the urgent, exhausting, and dangerous efforts at survival that our ancestors dealt with for the opportunity make phone calls, look things up on the internet, and stand in line.  I don’t want to get all cheesy, like, oh, how I long for a simpler time when it would take every calorie I could grub out of the land to create shelter.  No, that’s not where I’m going with this. But I am kind of pissed off at how much non-essential stuff clutters up our days, and how unsatisfying it is.

I sometimes feel guilty that I’m not more productive and don’t just get right on things.  But I had this realization today:  It’s not me!  It’s the chores themselves.  Yes, it’s their fault.

These “chores” aren’t the kind like Laura Ingalls Wilder had. No slopping the pigs or making a dress out of flour sacks.  No.  It’s these weird hassle-y chores that are spreading virally in the new millennium.

I started Labor Day weekend with a bit of momentum to accomplish some things before we all put away our seer sucker suits, white shoes, and gin and tonic supplies for the winter.

On Saturday when I got up, the water was off.  When I turned on the faucet, there was just air where the stream of water should be, so I immediately looked for my emergency kit that has three days of water, food, and batteries in it.  Then remembered that I don’t have one.  It reminded me of when Nurse Lady went to get some stuff from her kit during a power black out and discovered that the kit that she imagined being full of bounty merely contained one small bag of dried split peas.
I really wanted a cup of coffee before yoga, so I made it with the only liquid I could find – tonic water.  I could have used soy milk or orange juice, but the transparency of the tonic water seemed appropriate.  That, and the fact that I’ll have no need for tonic for several months.  I have standards.

I made the coffee, which wasn’t as bad as it sounds, and went to yoga.  When I told the lovely yogini that Lake M. was out of water, she had a look of horror. 

“The whole lake?” she asked.

The look of horror transferred to me. “I hope so.”

Then we both got it. She thought the lake itself had been drained, which would indeed have been pretty horrible.  But her question made me realize that it was possible that the lack of water was just happening in my house, meaning it would be my problem to solve.   Up to that point, my plan had been to just wait until it was fixed, but she introduced the possibility that it may require action on my part. The point of this segue, which you can’t even tell is a segue, is that I’m pretty good at both coping with things not being right, as well as procrastinating solutions.  If there’s no water, I don’t complain when I have to substitute tonic water.  If the squirrels in the attic get too loud, I go up there with incense and they temporarily leave. When the cold water in the bathroom faucet started dripping, I just turned off the cold water at the wall.  A year ago.  If there are holes in the laundry room ceiling, I cheerfully stop looking up.

Eventually, the water came on, and the next day I made coffee with water, had my delicious oatmeal glop from a recipe that I stole from C., and read a review of a book about willpower in Sunday’s NYT.  The author says that willpower is really the marker of a happy life, which made me feel, um, well, like maybe I shouldn’t be quite so happy?  I’ll get going with my willpower, I thought. But first, a few games of solitaire.  

I reviewed my list, which has these items on it:

1.    Call the person about the roof leak.  But first, figure out who that person is.

2.    Call another different person to put on gutters.

3.    Call the person who can invite the termites and carpenter ants to leave.

4.    Call the person to fix the dishwasher, which has been broken for about four months, because it has some flood warning alarm that goes off non-stop, and I’ve had to turn off the power at the breaker box.

5.    Replace the deck, after the ants and termites have moved out

6.    Plus all the usual stuff – water the garden, cut the grass, do the laundry and dishes, tidy, pay bills, obtain, split, and stack firewood, keep track of the boy child. Oh, and dust the shelves, because this is an odd numbered year.  Not to mention the weird chores, like tend to my freaky obsessions.

Okay, I’ve bored you enough, so I won’t elaborate on how it all goes down, but it’s all in the category of one step forward, two steps back.  As an example, I do a bit of research, call about the gutters, they say they’ll give an estimate by a certain date, and I don’t hear back. I call and leave a message, we play phone tag, two weeks go by, we finally connect, and they say it will cost $900 to install two straight gutters along long edges of the most rectangular house you can imagine, and that seems ridiculous.  It’s also annoying because I’ve applied my very limited supply of chore effort towards this problem, and nothing’s better.  I’ve called another person, and we’re in that part where they said they’d provide an estimate by Tuesday, and it’s not Tuesday anymore.  This may sound like I’m writing metaphorically about my dating life, but no, I’m not.  I’m writing about actual chores.

While I’m reviewing my list, the oven starts randomly beeping with an error message to remove the probe from the roast.  There is no probe.  There is no roast.  I turn off the power to the oven to quiet things down, and add it to the list.  I congratulate myself that I have two kitchen appliances that need repairing.  This seems efficient.  I do research on the internet, and find a service place that deals with both things, and has an e-mail contact form.  I’m thrilled, because I love e-mail and hate the phone.  I instantly get an auto-reply saying to contact them by phone during normal working hours.  Grrr.

I go out to the car to remove a cd from the car stereo that’s due at the library, and get an error message there too:  Error 4.  I research this on the internet too, where I learn that I have to take it to the dealer, who will likely suggest that I buy a new stereo. 

I heard something on the radio recently about obesity and how we really don’t have good mechanisms to tell us when to stop eating.  They tested this by having two people eat soup, but they rigged one  bowl up so that it was continuously filling.  The person eating that soup didn’t feel full, though they ate 70 percent more soup than their dinner partner.  I’m wondering if someone is doing this same kind of experiment with my chores.

I realize that these aren’t big problems.  Money, effort, and time will solve them all.  None affect my health, none are even very inconvenient in the scheme of things.   So the purpose of this whiny little post isn’t to reveal what a poor homeowner I am, which is surely true, but rather, to comment on the nature of chores today. 

I, believe it or not, am a pretty hard worker, but there’s nothing to work on here.  It all involves making phone calls, waiting for replies, making more calls, researching stuff on the internet, standing in lines, writing checks.  No sweat will be broken.  I would much rather dig a hole, hammer a nail, split wood, or feed people.

I was thinking about all of this today during my commute, and I was starting to feel that thing of, wow, these aren’t even problems.  Relax already.  Which is good, right?  But I’m very good at that already, maybe gifted.  Maybe I’m an “ignore-the-house-falling-apart savant”, not to brag or anything.  So I’m trying to find that fine line of thinking hard enough about the stuff on my list that I’ll actually address them, but not getting so overwhelmed that I just want to crawl under the covers.  I was trying to put that thought into Warrior 3, because sometimes imagining things as asanas gives them life in a good way.  I pulled over to buy some veggies at my favorite farm stand, and I was sitting in my car, focusing on my Warrior 3 chore list, when I saw a big white truck backing toward me really fast.  I honked, but it didn’t stop Rambo man from just plowing into my car until he contacted it, creating large fresh dents and scrapes.  It would be so much easier to forgive if he just said, “Oh, I’m sorry!”  Because we’ve all done stupid things that we instantly regret.  Instead, he said, “you weren’t there when I started.” Which wasn’t true, but maybe it’s like me believing the chores are their own fault. Maybe that’s karma.  All I know is that my list is getting longer every day.  There is abundance in the world!

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Do I dare to eat a peach?

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  A while back I thought I could write better horoscopes if I would jot down ideas as they came to me.  We've seen how that worked out - the random scraps of paper tucked everywhere, marred with meaningless phrases, like "binder".  So I came up with a new plan, which is to have a little tape recorder in the car.  First, find the tape recorder.  Then buy the batteries.  Then find the tape recorder again.  Then have an idea.  Then have an idea while driving, and when the tape recorder hasn't fallen out of reach.  It's all gonna come together soon, Aries.  For you too.  This is your week.  Make the most of it.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): So I'm sitting the big name brand coffeeshop, using their wireless network to write this, and a lady comes up and taps me on the shoulder.  "How did you get your wireless connection?"  I tell her how to log on to their network, but she looks at me blankly.  "Could you come help me?"  So I go over to her table, and the computer is brand new.  She doesn't have any wireless connection set up, she doesn't have the wireless switch turned on, and so on.  I get it going for her while she's talking on the phone to someone else.  I know.  I give her the thumbs up when it's running, and she covers the mouth piece. "So, will this work at home now?"  "Do you have wireless internet at home?"  "Sort of.  It's in the air."  I say yes, because I'm afraid any other answer will end up with me going to her house.  I go back to my table and write for a while, and when I turn around, she's got this handsome man helping her.  I give her a questioning look, and she looks sheepish.  I'm not sure what happened there, Taurus.  You know those people who, when you ask them what time it is, they wish they had a watch so they could tell you?  Yeah, I know.  Taurus, claim your time this week.  Don't dither it away.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): We spend half our life circling the grass before we settle into something, and much of the rest thinking maybe we shouldn't be doing the thing we finally settled into.  How do you feel about a chore potluck, where we'd all bring our detested chores, toss them into a hat, and pick a different one?  I've brought this up before and haven't had any takers, which makes me feel a little like the chores I have are worse than everyone else's.  Who would spend a dollar for the chance to win 50 cents?  But the idea is based on the theory that we all balk at different things.  Consider it, at least. 

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21:  The other day, I followed E. down to the part of our building where all of the desks and chairs from people who used to work here are stored.  He wanted to show it to me, I suppose because it's amazing -- there are 600 chairs, 300 desks, stacks of computers, and millions of binders.  You have to crawl to get around.  To get there, we walked through the storage area of the other tenant in the building, and E. grabs a potholder and 15 tiny paper cups, the kind you'd put three meltaway mints in, or maybe a few Ibuprofen, depending on what's going on.  Just as he's doing this, someone from that tenants office walks in, and looks at us like, "sheesh, these people can't keep their paws off our stuff."  Which was a totally legitimate response.  When I lamented that this would be a lame reason to get fired, E got really annoyed -- "You're probably the kind who would be nervous if you were caught rifling through the director's desk too, aren't you."  Yeah, I'm that kind.  The hot pad was later offered to an employee who appeared to be giving herself a pedicure at her desk, but I guess she just has hotspots on her feet.  This week, Cancer, see if you can figure out a use for 15 tiny paper cups.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  I was in the store one day, and overheard a man talking to a woman:  "Yeah, but the first symptom of alcoholism is denying you have a problem, and I'm definitely not denying it, so I can't possibly be an alcoholic."  She did that head tipping/eye-squinting thing while she listened, as if she knew something was off, but couldn't quite place it, and they loaded up the cart with cans of American beer.  Don't let people be ridiculous this week, Leo.  Ridiculousness stops here.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22)
:  Virgo is said to be the hardest working sign of the zodiac, which is probably why you guys grabbed Labor Day for your own.  But try to lighten up just one little bit.  Follow my example:  I get home a little early with a ton of momentum. I'm totally gonna own those chores, tackle that list like nobody's business.  But I decide I should probably take a nap first.  Before the nap, a bath would be nice, right?  Because I'll be partly undressed anyway, so that would be efficient.  And then after then nap, well, since I'm already laying right next to my book, I might as well finish it, because obviously, I'm all about efficiency.  After I finish the book, it seems like I should probably just call my sister because I had the saddest realization ever this week, which is that she'll likely pre-decease me, not because she's sick or anything, but because she's a bit older than me.  I can't imagine a time when I won't be able to call her and laugh really hard, so I think I should do it all the time now.  By the time we get off the phone, I'm in a way better mood.  It's a bit late to get going on chores, and also, it's a pity to waste such a pleasant mood on chores.  I change out of the house-cleaning outfit that I won't describe here, and settle in to doing nothing at all.  On second thought, Virgo, do not follow this example.  This is what leads people to wake up at age 50 going, huh?  By the way, the sun is in Virgo now, so wear sunscreen.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  No, this isn't the fucking movies.  It's more like literary fiction, where the people think hard, struggle, have a few brilliant moments, and not a lot else happens.  But still, smuggle in some popcorn.  Leave a trail if you must. 

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Grab onto the tiny but nonetheless amazing coincidences in your life, and nurture them tenderly until they grow them into a grand adventure.  That's all we can do.  That, and visit all of the Great Lodges.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): Do you ever wake up and realize you have about 60 months left to live, and while that's long enough for lots of stuff, like execute a 5 year plan, still, it seems sudden?  And you're hoping you can get 60 good months of sitting on the couch, which some might consider a pretty low bar, but it is what it is.  May it be good t.v., my friend.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): If there is a god, Capricorn, don't you think he would tell John Boehner to knock it off? And he wouldn't need to use weird natural disaster metaphorish ways to do it, he'd just boom it right out in a big godly voice from the sky.  "John Boehner, stop being such an arrogant blowhard and resign already." 

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): Today when I wasn't cleaning my house, (but I was wearing the frilly apron from Nicaragua in an industrial, non-slutty way), the young people popped in to get something.
"Can I feed you two?" I asked.
"You remind me of Goldie Hawn," the young lady replied.
"Can you stay for a peach, at least?" I replied, pointing to the bowl of ripe fruit on the counter.
"Wow, is 'peach' a unit of time in your family?" the young lady asked.
"We gotta be going now," said R., conclusively.
I guess pot smoking is alive and well, Aquarius.  Your age is still dawning.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I heard this thing on the radio about how irritable people earn more money, I think they said that the grouchy men earn an average of 18 percent more per year than their kindly coworkers. Dutiful blogger that I am, I tried to search that, and here's the result, Pisces, so you won't have to do this yourself. Thankfully, Bing got me there, and it's true.  But it isn't all about money.  This week, don't worry about the salary, just keep being kind, and think of it this way:  they have to pay people a bunch more to be assholes, because who would do that for free?

I'm excited to report that the author Celeste Ng has selected m y modern love essay to read for the Modern Love podcast next week. Suc...