Rules
In the couple days since my almost-firing, I've spent a fair amount of time thinking about it all. The first hour or two after waking is generally devoted to obsessive rehashing of what Maureen said in her quasi-firing, acknowledging some of her points, furiously refuting others. Other hours are spent trying desperately to construct a narrative of my future in which everything all makes sense and comes out for the best (although I'm stymied by having no vision of a plausible scenario).
Pete gently suggests that maybe I need to just have my emotional reaction first, before I figure out what to do next. And that seems like pretty good advice, even if I'm not turning out to be that good at following it. Besides which, ideally I'd like the process to involve, say, entire bags of Cheetos and large hunks of chocolate cake by day, and bourbon on the rocks at night, but being pregnant and currently diabetic sort of puts the kibosh on all that. (I did rebelliously have three bites of potato salad a little while ago, though. Livin' large.)
In the meantime, some parts of life just go on, which is a little inconvenient when one would really like to curl up on the couch and be catatonic for a few days, but is probably ultimately a good thing. In particular, Cassie continues, naturally, to be very much herself.
Last night during her supper, I was eating a piece of American cheese for lack of anything better to put in my mouth. I guess I've given her a general explanation of gestational diabetes, though we haven't talked about it a whole lot. She's made the connections, though, apparently. She looked up at me and asked, "You can eat cheese because it doesn't raise your blood sugar?" Um, yeah, I said. Well, exactly, actually. At that moment, I put her dessert, a bowl with two small scoops of strawberry ice cream, on the counter so I could get out the requested sprinkles. Cassie looked at it and gleefully exclaimed, "Two little bald heads sticking up out of the bowl!" Minutes later, on the subject of nothing in particular, she was musing, "But the world has all different rules..." I agreed heartily that it certainly did. "...for safety," she concluded.
Yeah. Yeah, for safety.
Pete gently suggests that maybe I need to just have my emotional reaction first, before I figure out what to do next. And that seems like pretty good advice, even if I'm not turning out to be that good at following it. Besides which, ideally I'd like the process to involve, say, entire bags of Cheetos and large hunks of chocolate cake by day, and bourbon on the rocks at night, but being pregnant and currently diabetic sort of puts the kibosh on all that. (I did rebelliously have three bites of potato salad a little while ago, though. Livin' large.)
In the meantime, some parts of life just go on, which is a little inconvenient when one would really like to curl up on the couch and be catatonic for a few days, but is probably ultimately a good thing. In particular, Cassie continues, naturally, to be very much herself.
Last night during her supper, I was eating a piece of American cheese for lack of anything better to put in my mouth. I guess I've given her a general explanation of gestational diabetes, though we haven't talked about it a whole lot. She's made the connections, though, apparently. She looked up at me and asked, "You can eat cheese because it doesn't raise your blood sugar?" Um, yeah, I said. Well, exactly, actually. At that moment, I put her dessert, a bowl with two small scoops of strawberry ice cream, on the counter so I could get out the requested sprinkles. Cassie looked at it and gleefully exclaimed, "Two little bald heads sticking up out of the bowl!" Minutes later, on the subject of nothing in particular, she was musing, "But the world has all different rules..." I agreed heartily that it certainly did. "...for safety," she concluded.
Yeah. Yeah, for safety.
posted by Rosie Bonner at 2:51 PM
2 Comments:
While you're busy getting on with Life, I'm having emotional reactions to your kind-of firing: "How dare they!" "It's their loss!" "Waaaaaaah (fantasizes punching the Evil Maureen in the face)!" You can take care of all the mature bits while I have all the fun (confident that this will turn out to be a Good Thing, mind you, but irritatingly Not Yet Revealed).
Whatever you decide to do, please keep chronicling. You're such a wonderful writer with a unique, comforting, relatable perspective. I wish I knew a literary agent.
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