So.. tired...

So, I'm going through my paper work and filing cabinet today, getting downstairs into some semblance of an office that I will work in, or care to spend any time in. I've been running across lots of old stuff of mine, including the following poem, which was a favorite of mine (introduction to it courtesy of C.T.):

"This girlchild was born as usual
and presented dolls that did pee-pee
and miniature stoves and irons
and wee lipsticks the colour of cherry candy.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You have a great big nose and fat legs.

She was healthy, tested intelligent,
possessed strong arms and back,
abundant sexual drive and manual dexerity.
She went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.

She was advised to play coy,
exhorted to come on hearty,
exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out
like a fan belt.
So she cut off her nose and legs
and offered them up.

In the casket displayed on satin she lay
with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on.
A turned up putty nose,
dressed in a pink and white nightie.
'Doesn't she look pretty?' everyone said.
Consumation at last.
To every woman a happy ending."

Barbie Doll, by Marge Piercy


Also, J-M and I have invented a fabulous new method for preserving or restoring one’s mental and emotional satisfaction!

Step one: become the Mario sisters and replace two toilets in a house on your own – perfectly, with no leaks, for the first time.

Step two: remove the horrible old non-working toilets to someplace very very near the disposal site for said items.

Step three: wrap old toilet pieces in plastic bags to reduce the risk of flying shards. Proceed to beat the living daylights out of china bathroom fixtures with the Holy Crowbar of Sanity. Relish the sounds of porcelain shattering. Allow this sound to sink deep into the depths of one’s mind, and let it clear the accumulated anger and frustration from your day.

Note: *If* you should skip step two, or not plan for it (as we did in the newly discovered Art of Porcelain Therapy – we’re therapist now – scary isn’t it?), the chance that you will bleed before the night is through becomes very high.

Also. Crowbars are –not- a standard tool of toilet bowl removal, and should not be kept around as such in case of an emergency, or weak girl hands with wrenches in awkward spaces. I so solemnly swear it. ~ahem~

Last night was Star's Birthday party. Fabulous, with a casualty count of one Fringe bench, Fox's knee, and J-M's lungs. Many stories and dancing resulted. I am exhausted. J-M and C are moved into their new house - hurrah! My legs are sore.

More updates may come when my brain has tea. For now, I'm worn out.