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Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Zombie is the Most Awesomest Ever

When I got home from work today, I was immediately In a Mood. This Mood made me want to throw away everything I could get my hands on.

When I got out of the car, I noticed that the garbagemen were incredibly late and that made it the perfect time to be in such a mood.

So, I grab a garbage bag and begin stuffing random crap into it. I clean out a kitchen cupboard - coffee filters, egg noodles, bag of sugar, ice pack I have no use for, box of pudding dating back to the time of Moses, other random foodstuffs - begone! I go to the next cupboard - tea, macaroni, microwave pasta thing I will never eat and am not sure of why I bought - begone!

"This is fun," I think. "I shall throw away many more things!"

I grab another garbage bag and go to the little bookcase near the dining room - manuals I will never read for stuff I already know how to work, file folders full of who knows what, random puzzle pieces from the basket I keep change in, two boxes of markers, a pile of unmarked CDs, skads of random papers - begone!

That doesn't fill up my garbage bag, though, so I go trolling for more things. I start grabbing random crap as I wander around the house. I stuff most of it into the bag without even looking at it.

"LO!" I think, loudly. "THROWING OUT SHIT I DON'T EVEN LOOK AT ON A DAILY BASIS IS LIBERATING!" Yes, it appears I can control the volume of my inner monologue. I'm not sure if that is healthy or not. But anyway.

Broken toys from the kids' room. Out! Shoes that hurt my feets. Out! Shoes the kids don't wear anymore. Out! A pile of things the dog chewed on and tried to hide in the kids' room. OUT!

Then: The Unthinkable happens.

I stare at one of the many stacks of books in my bedroom. For a moment, I hesitate. "You are on a roll," I lecture myself. "You will never read these again. You do not need them. Yes, you can donate them somewhere or try to sell them some day, but that day isn't today, and after this moment, you will go back to weeping like an infant over the thought of getting rid of a book, so just do it. DO IT."

And I do. I sweep the entire pile, probably 15 paperbacks, into the bag. Out!

Triumphant!

"LO!" I think. "I AM REMOVING ACTUAL BOOKS FROM MY HOME FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER. I AM THE MOST AWESOMEST EVER!"

I drag my bag back out to the kitchen. I stare around wildly. My bag is full but I am still insane. No matter. Out to the back porch I go, grabbing the other bag on the way. I drop them and trot to the garage to grab the extra garbage can. See, our town has instilled a limit on how many cans you can put at the curb without having to pay extra. I will just stuff as much as I can into the last can and then I will feel better, I decide.

I haul the bags into the can. Still room left! Yes!

I rootle through the toybox we keep on the porch. Broken things. Out! Stuff that's covered in mud because my kids appear to have a mud fetish. Out!

I look around the porch. Flower pots I didn't fill this year. Out! Shoes I mow the lawn in. Out!

The can is full. I am panting. I feel liberated and energetic. Yes, it may be 9 million degrees outside, but I just threw real books into a real garbage can for real garbage collection! And here comes the real garbage truck to take it away!

I do the only thing one can do in this situation, when one has excess energy and is feeling like the best thing on two legs: I mow the lawn.

And when I am done with that, I go back into the house and stand there, staring at the floor for a few minutes. "LO!" I think. "YOU HAVE GIVEN YOURSELF BRAIN DAMAGE AND HEAT STROKE. NOW YOUR HEAD WILL FALL OFF!"

I go into the bathroom and vomit. I come back out and spy the air conditioning unit.

See, this is a wall unit, and as such sucks up all the electricity in the free world and costs me an arm and a leg to run. Therefore, I don't run it. Except for when I've mowed the lawn and it's 900 gajillion degrees outside and I have just gotten so hot I've vomited for 15 minutes. Then I will run it. I deserve it. Oh yes I do.

I approach the air conditioning unit. "Yesss, my precious," I think. "I will turn you on and you will prevent me from dying right here where I stand."

I click it on. It makes the most wonderful sound in the world: the sound of manufactured cold air blowing into my little rathole of a house. I lean my forehead against its lovely, lovely vent.

"I love you, air conditioner," I say aloud.

And this is how I find myself, ten minutes later, standing with my head against the A/C. Anyone walking by on the street might've seen me doing this, as we have a large window in the living-room-we-don't-use-for-living. They would've seen a sweaty, crazy-haired woman hugging a wall unit.

But it probably wouldn't matter because they most likely already think I am a vampire or something.

I feel marginally better after the appliance-hugging, so I sit down to read a magazine for a while and finish cooling my dumb ass off. Because, really, that was stupid. Just because I am manic and an idiot doesn't mean I am invincible, and I could do myself some damage by shoving around this lawnmower that is missing its automatic-drive function and therefore HEAVY AS SHIT in heat like we are having.

When I relate this bit of business to El Bastardo later, he tells me I could've boiled my brain like the little bunny in Fatal Attraction, and then I am contrite. But now that I think about it, would boiling my brain really make that much of a difference?

I somehow doubt it, friends and neighbors. I somehow doubt it.

But no matter! I have thrown things away! And I will continue to do so until I have no extra things and I feel lean and mean and not bogged down by worthless junk. I have had a breakthrough, by throwing away those books. If I can throw away books, I can do anything I damned well please.

Indeed, I am the Most Awesomest Ever.


link | posted by Zombie at 5:05 PM |


5 Comments:

Blogger Ralph Nadir commented at 7:07 PM~  

Awesome post. But, there was no bunny boiling in Basic Instinct. That just had ice picks, and Sharon Stone's crotch. The bunny boiling was in Fatal Attraction.

Blogger Zombie commented at 7:45 PM~  

Oh yeah. That is my mistake, not his.

I have the Down's Syndrome.

Blogger Zombie commented at 7:46 PM~  

Actually, I will fix that now, so no one else knows I have the Down's Syndrome. Shhhh. It will be our secret. Don't tell anyone!

Blogger skippystalin commented at 8:37 PM~  

Actually, I was just about to point out that your post was missing something very, very important. That would be crotch.

In fact, you haven't written about crotch since you can back from your two-fucking-year vacation.

I think I speak for all of your readers when I demand more crotch!

Anonymous cynlee commented at 3:43 AM~  

Did you just do a super fling boogie?

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