And now, for something completely worthless

Perhaps not, but I figured if I was ripping off Monty Python then at least some modesty should prevail, after all, am nowhere in the same category as John Cleese et al. The cable was disconnected during the week, I forgot to pay the bill, repeatedly. It's turning out to be the best thing in a weird sort of way. Not sitting there rotting the old brain on countless episodes of Law and Order, in all its incarnations, Criminal Minds and, wait, what the hell do I watch? Ah yes, E! News and the Food Network, now you can see why this is scary; it's junk at best.

The lack of cable is not really much of an issue, I'm not around enough to watch large amounts of television, most days I just fall asleep in front of the idiot box anyway. The dog probably misses it more than me because at least he could corral me into one spot and irritate the life out of me to throw his dumb ball at him. Yes, we sometimes play ball in the house when mommy can't be bothered to get up, make sure the neighbours are inside, gates locked to prevent dog from getting out and intruders from getting in. Needless to say, it is a recipe for disaster if only for the spitty state of the ball, the prospect of a large animal bounding heedless all over the place in direct proportion to the number of breakable things in the living room and the newly painted state of the walls. Did I mention that having spent several days slaving with a roller brush, various cleaning implements and on a shoestring budget the living room is now a zen oasis, welcoming, yet calm. Ah, it was worth the three day pain in the arm and knees that needed to be wrapped after balancing on the ladder.

But I digress, it was the lack of cable tv that started this. Really, it was sort of inevitable, freudian even, for reasons not to be shared here but let's just say they feature the Xman and a remote. However, lately I've been buying books the way some women, okay I, buy shoes. At lunch time, even though I rarely eat lunch at the designated time most days, I find myself in the bookstore around the corner. In the last couple months there has been a real danger of being overrun by cream coloured plastic bags with the logo on the front. Novels, magazines, other kinds of books, there is no real pattern, just words printed on pages. In the last month I think I bought about thirty books, well there was a sale so it made sense. But, I also had book exchange with two friends, got another FOUR boxes of books from a friend who is migrating and passed through both Readers Bookshop and the second hand bookstore and snapped up some more. Does this not signal that something might be up?

It only occurred to me that this is not normal when a friend nicely pointed out that since: I almost never have vacation, work twelve hour days and then spend another two hours a day getting to and from work that there was precious little time left to read all these books. Now I do read fast, and yes, with comprehension and retention thank you very much, but still, this was a little excessive. After all, as my mother would remind me if she were around, you cannot spend your life with your nose in a book, get up and exercise, so socialise...do something! But you know, I'm starting to suspect that this is the real thing because you see...I LIKE to read. It takes me away to that special place...okay that's Christopher Cross' Sailing, sue me.

Here's the thing though, the Christmas tree went up today. Now this is a FIRST. The Christmas tree, when it does go up, goes up, grudgingly (except for that one year I completely lost my mind and bought the damn tree and $600(!) worth of decorations), the week before Christmas. The living room now looks charming with an artful collection of paintings, plants and other stuff and of course, the tree. Trimmed with brown and green bulbs and some red berries it is restrained, relatively tasteful and unobtrusive. Totally unnatural given that Christmas is an opportunity to decorate mostly in an excessive, unrestrained, somewhat gaudy, definitely tacky way as possible. All that gold and sparkly dust stuff! But the living room has prevailed so none of that, but it's up. This lack of cable thing might be dangerous.

Next thing you know I'll be shampooing the carpet, stripping and sealing the tiles and whatever other rituals women subjugate themselves to in the name of house proud Christmas. And here's the kicker...I don't give a crap, I never understand what the fuss is about and truthfully, would happily read away the two days we get off. Now you see the confusion.

Anyday now, the men in the white shirts come to cart me away, or perhaps sanity will prevail and a return to shoes will obtain....