9:26 p.m. - Sunday, Dec. 26, 2004
I was up in the third floor of my grandmother's house. It had been remodeled into apartments. The remodeling was quite nice, well done, modern. I was showing it off to someone. I noticed a rickety wooden ladder attached to one wall. I was thinking: that ladder probably goes into the attic, and I remember the last time I had a dream like this, where I got into the attic in my grandmother's house, it was huge and full of delightful things, old furniture, family history. I should climb this ladder and see ... "Oh, they probably use that to get up to change the lightbulbs," I said, and turned away. How lazy and unadventurous I have grown since the last time I had that dream.
Well, excuuuuuuuuuuse me, Madame Subconscious. I'm busy, OK? I'm swamped with work at the office, I never have any free time anymore. They keep changing my assignments and moving my lawyers to new offices. They've given me a lawyer I can't stand and I'm unhappy! At home, I've really started taking care of this place better. I clean it better, I get up on the roof to change light fixtures, I do wiring in my garage that takes three goddamn days of my vacation. OK?????? Not to mention I'm being bled dry by an evil uterus, I'm anemic, I have pica and all I can think about is how much I want to get down on my knees and lick the sidewalk!! OK??????? OK??????????????
I keep rationalizing with myself: I need to stay on the job long enough to get my hysterectomy and replace the coaxial cable on my rooftop antenna, because I won't have health insurance once I quit my job. These are legitimate concerns.
That's the problem: I'm a realist, and I'm also a romantic. Inside me it's civil war these days, chaotic and destructive.