Tuesday, October 2, 2007

I get distracted

Damn, I get distracted. I spent the whole day blogging about Brittney Spears. You may not know this but while I was doing that, my Dad was being ambulance-driven from Hoboken Hosptial to the Hebrew Home for the Aged.

That may have had something to do with the Brittney thing, in the same way that, usually, after visiting Dad, I have to lie on the sofa and watch cooking shows and What Not To Wear. It empties me, visiting him, and then it fills me with things I do not want in me--things like guilt and powerlessness and fatigue and annoyance and the question: Why am I doing this again?

So I lie there, on the sofa, and I put my attention on things that don't matter, things like whether to wear a short jacket or a long jacket with hips like these, and whether or not it's appropriate for someone my age to let my belly show (it's not). And in a little while, some things that matter but are not about Dad or Mom drift back into my consciousness, things like whether I should go and have this bump on my cheek looked at and wondering when I am going to look into Max's financial aid problem and when we need to start looking at colleges for Katie... and paying our bills, which are somehow, though we made plenty of money last month, late again...

... things like that.

In fact, the whole Dad and Mom drama became a distraction too, lifting me out of my life for a month, dropping me, when it was through with me, on the sofa with a glass of red wine and What Not to Wear.

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