I just received my writing assignment for October.
TRY not to wet yourself with untoward ado.
First of all, let me say, I am THANKFUL for my job. (Enough so, apparently, to write of my gratitude IN ALL CAPS). I love to write. I love being given the opportunity. And I love receiving a paycheck for it. But that said, I can't help but wonder:
Is this all that I have to offer the world? A series of 1,000 word pieces (which, incidentally, always run long) on common-place maladies in upper-middle class homes?
~~ Quick! Someone call the financially-stable, overly-Botoxed, conservative Republican housewives and tell them to allergy proof their homes IMMEDIATELY, lest little Aiden and Ella develop an unseasonal sniffle! We can't have them contaminating the other children at St. Ignatious' Aryan Private School for the Pretentious and Smug.~~
Is this honestly the legacy I am building?
If so, I think I may need a costly and time-consuming recount. Florida style. 'Cause I'm pretty sure that somewhere along the way I developed a problem with my hanging chads.
Chads. Dangly bits. Tiny tears in papers that are supposed to stand for something...
I am pretty sure there is some deep, earth-shattering analogy there, but I am too out of practice at transposing my own thoughts to articulate what it is. So I will leave it up to your interpretation and suffice to say this--
I think I have more to say than "this is a list of common food allergies."
Offhand, I don't know what it is I have to say, but I do know it's profound.
(It has to be. Why else would I have this uncanny command of adverbs?)
Until I can figure it out, I will likely bury myself in a crossword or take the dog on an unnecessarily long walk. Perhaps I will make myself some food. But nothing with cheese. I am allergic.