The Palinode turned to me last night and said I'm glad that you do most of your complaining on the internet.

This statement said two things to me:

  1. I don't do a lot of complaining in my regular walking-and-talking offline life, which is positive, and
  2. I have been doing a lot of complaining on this website over the last while, which is not so positive.

If I have been complaining so much around here that you are feeling, oh, I don't know, annoyed or put off, please don't tell me. I briefly considered putting up a poll that went something like:
Have I been complaining too much on this website?
Yes? ___
No? ___

Then, I remembered that I prefer to live in the dark when it comes to experiencing disapproval from others. I prefer to imagine that I am loved roundly by all who matter, that I am indeed a farter of kittens, a joy with which to be reckoned, a candle to light your soul's long dark tea-time. (I did not use a comma after "long", because Douglas Adams didn't in the title of his book, and I figured that if he did not see fit to do so, then neither would I).

Today, my goal is to be cheery, despite the fact that I am bloated and sore-boobed and more than a little temperamental, and I got almost no sleep, because the cats were out of water and dehydrating around my pillows all night in an attempt to get me to fill their bowl. (Oops! There I go again!)

So, now I am going to be cheery for you. Not that I'm not cheery. I can be, and often am, an upbeat human being. I have a booming sideline in making people cry and recount their childhood tragedies, though, and I can be shortsighted enough to forget that appreciable success in one area does not mean success in all areas.

Right. On with cheery. Here we go.



This is a fuck of a lot harder than I thought it would be, holy crap.

I will try this non-complaining exercise on another day that is not a day when my period is due, another day that is not a day when I cried on my cat at five in the morning because I suddenly believed that I was horrible beyond all reason after I threw him into the hallway for sticking his feet in my water glass and waking me up with his crusty butt pressed against my forehead. Seriously, if you looked at me sideways today and asked me about that freckle on my left cheek, inside my skull I would shriek No! It's a far too premature age spot! Fuck!, and then I would sit on the toilet and cry about my repellent fugliness. Today, I am fourteen and crazy.

And would you look at that! Just as I typed "crazy", I felt not-quite-but-almost-cheery coming on. Fabulous. I'm going to do near-cheery as fast as I can, because she's a swift moose.

Things That I Don't Hate, But I Am Not In Love With, Either

  • neapolitan ice cream
  • smelly markers (green apple is quite lovely, though)
  • Trident original sugarless gum
  • gold envelopes that claim to be manila
  • colourful origami paper (it usually looks cheap)
  • ring boxes from the jeweller's lined with velvet or faux suede
  • pens with green ink
  • the colour turquoise
  • toothpaste from health food stores
  • polyester
  • purple highlighters
  • cut flowers (the more dead they are, the more they smell, which is just not as happy as the florists of North America would have us think)
  • new black car tires
  • outdated magazines in any waiting room
  • the title of this list and the positioning of it prepositions
  • italian food
  • the ocean
  • the name Bob
  • the number eight
  • all five of The Jackson 5
  • feather pillows (when I was a kid, I worried about the cold, nekkid geese)
  • the particular echo of sound in an indoor pool when it's full of swimmers
  • Alright, that was perfectly middling for me. How about you?

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