In Which Our Heroine Sees Things

18 September 2004

I'm in one of those moods where I have to keep asking myself, "What was I doing?" because I keep seeing things. Not things like pink elephants and little men in red caps. That would be something else to cope with entirely. No, I mean things like noticing that there's a chapter I could finish in just a few paragraphs and then have that much less book to do, like remembering that there's a load of darks and a load of lights to wash, like spotting the overripe bananas on the counter and remembering both the banana bread to bake with them and the trip to the store to get less ripe ones and also broccoli and tortillas.

When I was a teenager, my mom would lament, "How can you not see that?" when I would forget I had had a glass of water and leave it sitting on a coaster in the living room, then walk through the living room five or ten times without ever stopping to pick it up. If I'd tracked dirt on the rug, if I'd knocked a throw pillow onto the floor, "How can you not see that?" She knew I wasn't maliciously cluttering her world. She honestly wondered. And the answer was that I didn't feel responsibility for the house as a whole. I felt responsibility for my chores within it, but vacuuming weekly is not the same thing as noticing dirt on the rug. The answer was that she was the one who noticed that kind of thing, so I didn't have to be.

Now I have to be. So I am. So I get up from my desk to take a shower, remember that there's a load of laundry that needs doing, grab the empty mug I used for my white cranberry-peach juice an hour ago, put it in the dishwasher, notice that the bowl we used for cherry tomatoes on the counter has had the last cherry tomato eaten from it, put that in the dishwasher, too, associate that with harvesting the tomatoes for the day and watering the plants outside and make a mental note to water the plants inside, too, and while I'm dealing with water, weren't there those old toys for Roo to play with tomorrow, once they're washed off? Which is how I end up half an hour later with a few things started, a few things finished, lots of new items on the list, popping up to put the gauze bags from Em and Aaron's reception in the present-wrapping section of the hall closet, "What was I doing? Oh yes. Showering." But now I've started the washing machine, and while it's generally all right to shower with a load of darks in the washing machine, I try not to push it too much, so here I am, writing a journal entry.

Sometimes it's a very useful mindset, seeing things that need doing and doing them. Sometimes it's a colossal pain in the butt.

I finished Adventures in Time and Space with Max Merriwell yesterday. It went quickly. I was less charmed by the conceit than some other people seemed to be -- Zed, say, and Pat Murphy herself. I wouldn't recommend it particularly, but I wouldn't anti-recommend it particularly, either, unless you're fond of Very Clever Conceits, in which case, have at it. Now I'm reading The Secrets of Jin-Shei by Alma Alexander. I'm not far enough into it to really have much opinion, though.

And here is yet another public service announcement courtesy of me: some people will tell you that you can freeze overripe bananas and then make them into banana bread at your leisure. While this is technically true, these people secretly -- or perhaps, considering the circumstances, not so secretly -- hate you. Even if they are your grandma, even if they are a dear friend of many years, even if they give you hugs and smooches upon seeing you, even if they ask you to be in their wedding, even if they ask you to fill the other primary role in their wedding. It is all a horrible charade. They hate you. Because while I love banana bread and banana bars and banana lots of other things, overripe bananas are deeply vile. But what is more deeply vile than overripe bananas? Overripe bananas that have been frozen and thawed. Ew, ew, ew, ewwwwwww. I'm so glad I had lunch before that experience. Because, ew. That was, as we say in the Upper Midwest, not all right.

That's how I probably should make banana bread in general, because it comes out great. But ew.

Okay, book eating brain again. Have a good Saturday.

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