There are quite a few television advertisements that grab my attention in the most negative way. One of them begins with a woman asking, “How do you tell your husband I have cancer?” Every time I hear that, I want to scream at her with “Why would I want to tell my husband that you have cancer? Why would he or I care? And when the heck did I even get married?!” I’m not stupid enough to actually believe that…
I do my spring cleaning in the summer time, when it’s so unbearably hot and uncomfortable that I constantly wish I’d actually done the cleaning in the spring. That’s how it’s done, you know — at the most inconvenient time of the year. Yesterday, I spent the day cleaning out my closets, and aside from all the femurs and skulls in there, I had tons and tons of papers, clothes, knick-knacks, art supplies, books, letters, tapes, and miniature kitchen sinks…
There are not enough hours in the day. I forget sometimes how wide my interests are, even just centered around my computer. Today I attempted to catch up on viewing other people’s images at the galleries, after neglecting them for so long. I failed — failed — to scratch the surface in the sea of thumbnails in the “What’s New” sections and comment on everything I saw. I suppose I would have been fine about that if the rest of…