Tuesday, November 10, 2015
How to Avoid Everything, Part 2
1. Continue to go back and forth with The McMansion Developer in countless emails, listening to him mansplaining and condescending to you before finally realizing that he's not accustomed to a vocal female because of his religious persuasion. When he tells you that world hunger and war are more important things to feel sad about than trees and a peaceful home, thank him for the reminder and then add my daughter's refractory seizures and caregiving to his list. Then read how sorry he is to hear this, how he will pray to God for my children and that I will have the strength to take care of them so just say Bless his heart in your tiny, little mother mind™ and avoid everything.
2. Appease your mounting anxieties about how many books there are to be read by downloading a ridiculous number of them on your Kindle and staring down the hardbacks you have yet to crack on your bedside table, the floor, the shelves -- and then avoid everything.
3. Pull the blinds down in your own room to shield your view of the McMansion workers on the second story of their construction.
4. Read a bunch of poems about nature, love and sex, again, by Jack Gilbert.
5. Stay in bed sipping coffee and feel grateful that you have such good and funny friends.
6. Hang a pretty scarf over the boys' window despite their protestations instead of ordering the new blinds for them since the old ones broke five years ago.
7. Count on the universe to come through.
8. Pray to God that world hunger and war will stop, that epilepsy will as well and that you will continue to be a kick-ass caregiver. Then go demo a house, cut down some old trees, build an enormous mansion, sell it for $3 million and praise His Name. If it's His will, that is.
9. Get the whole bullshit exchange with the developer out of your system by writing incessantly about it and him and Him but realize that you are, in the end, an ineffectual woman with a big mouth who is no match for capitalism, progress and -- well -- God.
10. Accept this, humbly.
11. Accept this humbly, but get your sons to emerge from their room, attach speakers to their various devices and blast the Soviet Republic's national anthem toward the McMansion during an open house. Bribe them with a promise that you will order those new blinds ASAP.
(thank you, my friend who's actually an immigrant from a former Soviet Republic who posted this on my Facebook page)