Gah, internet, gah. I woke up with my head wrapped up in the covers, like mummy. I think I was secretly trying to smother myself. I don’t know what’s up with the universe these days. I am constantly spotting 11:11 on the clocks, and last time that happened, we spent our life savings. Who needs Vegas when one comes factory-equipped with a lifetime supply of stupid ideas?

Some things are clearing up, however. The battle of the printer was won decisively, by getting a new one and kicking the old one. The mystery of “Who’s Been Pooping on the Stairs?” was solved. It was the woodchuck all along! And I thought it was the raccoon. A real novice move. And I wondered where the clean laundry was hiding, but Zellweger left it in the dryer.

Hey, let’s talk childhood. I was on the phone with my mom the other day, and we got to discussing my old drawings. I asked “Do you mean the Easter Island ones?” She read me and Loves-the-Bus the story of Thor Heyerdahl, and since I couldn’t sit still, I was allowed to draw. I drew the natives skulking through underground tunnels and rolling logs under those giant stone heads.

No, my mom was referring to the drawings she made me do for a contest. A children’s theater company in Richmond selected a drawing for the cover of the program for each season’s production. I recall determinedly scribbling about Cinderella and Pinocchio and Peter Pan and Charlie’s Angels. And then my mom said “And your drawings were so wonderful, so full of life.”

“Yeah? Well how come I never won?” That used to burn my ass every time I saw some other kid’s drawing on the next cover. Even at age six, I had a strong sense of injustice.

“I don’t know, I guess they never had the same feeling after I made you go back and correct them.”

“You what?”

“It was like your pencil never left the paper on your first pass. You just had all these details in your head, and you just let them flow. So I’d have you go back and straighten out lines and things like that. You always drew windows crooked.”

“….”

Ethicist: should I bill her for therapy, plus my usual hourly consulting rate for time spent in therapy?