Priceless....

Any large odd-sized cardboard box—the one from the new ‘fridge, washing machine, television, etc.—proposes a unique challenge. What to do? I faced this dilemma with the 4 x 4 inch x 6 foot box used for shipping fridge.

Some might try to crumple, fold, compact, and then attempt to force it into the recycling bin. Others might try to fit it into a burning barrel along with other trash. Still others might take out a box cutter and reduce it to a flat sheet—a solution that only perpetuates the issue. Does the box now go to the compactor? The barrel? The recycling bin?
My friend, an amateur mechanic, would probably save it to lie on while working on his back under the car.

I, however, fortuitously hit upon an elegant solution. After a brief attempt to extricate the fridge by lifting it out, I realised I’d have to open the bottom and pull the cardboard up. Once this was accomplished, and the fridge safety housed in the corner of kitchen, I considered what to do with the leftover shipping container. Then it hit me.
Cat toy. Two cats and a 4 x4 6 foot tunnel. Even better—a ping pong ball, two cats and a tunnel (one of my cats can follow the ball through the tunnel as fast as I can roll it. I pity the mouse that attracts THIS cat’s interest.).
Cue commercial music. A shiny new fridge—insert current cost. Expedited home delivery shipping—include average cost. A cardboard box for two cats? Priceless.
Until they decide they’d rather sit on it.

I pick it up...put it down !!!

Every time I sit down to write, to exorcise myself from stress, draw a picture write a freaking word -- I just can't

The notebook closes.
The window closes.
The breath closes.

Pen down.

I'm doing good work with my fate.I don't want to say that "I'm getting close to something," because that doesn't seem to be the way this will work. Some of it is peeling layers, but mostly it seems to be taking bites out of things. Banging my shin into the chair and trying to figure out what will help to heal it.

Or maybe it's just a matter talking with someone in a different way. Open to some things, challenging others. Cracking the door open to see how blinding the light is. Or how bitterly cold.


How long can I go on with the metaphors?

I just deleted a bunch of crap post about guilt and grief. It's all been said before. by me. A different context this time, but still. just displacement, I think.


I have been eating constantly for the last 3 or 4 weeks. Or crying or angry. All the regular stuff, I know. Time of year, sick dog, and what-not.

Surely I am stuffing down some kind of feelings I am not ready to feel. I've picked up all kinds of tools and media to exorcise it from my body.

I pick it up. Put it down.

Not yet.