I wonder how many other people watched Julie and Julia and though, gosh, I should get a blog too. And then they signed up for one and found themselves facing a blank screen. The main problem I have with blogging is the inherent assumption that other people, even strangers, will care about the details of my life. Really folks, there isn’t much going on here in Waterloo. I have been unemployed for several months and am starting to go slightly batty.
I was reading Stuart McLean’s Home From the Vinyl Cafe: A Year of Stories and I came across a scene where Morley, who took an absence of work to raise her children, found herself yelling at the washing machine. She was overcome by the relentlessness of the dirty clothes that just kept piling up, and started to cry as she took the clothes right off of her back and threw them into the machine saying “have it all”. At which point her husband Dave came home and in true McLean fashion, a humorous misunderstanding ensued. (As a side note, I highly recommend picking up any of McLean’s books as they are both hilarious and heartwarming.) But back to the laundry and my current mental state. I too have been frustrated by the never-ending pile of dirty clothes that is always sitting in the hamper. Even as I am doing laundry, I am wearing clothes that will require washing at the end of the day. Similarly, because apparently when we chose a dog from the Humane Society we picked the world’s most frequent shedder, the floor always needs sweeping. And what is happening while I sweep the floors? The dog is standing there, always in the newly collected dirt pile, thinking it is a game. And shedding even more fur on the floor! The futility of it all is wearing me down.
Anyway, welcome to my blog. It is designed as a way to collect book reviews and miscellaneous writing and perhaps encourage somebody to hire me and free me from my house. It was not designed as a place for me to rant and moan and assume people want to hear about my daily affairs. But there you go, post number one and I am already sharing too much . . . . .