I decided to blow off the Amazon after just a few days. It was OK, I guess. I met some monkeys, and I learned how to dye fabric with bugs. I made a caftan. It makes me feel like lounging on the lanai with Dorothy and Rose.
But now that I’m back, I feel a little discontent. I decided it would be in my best interest to have one reasonably lucrative job instead of my usual million jobs with erratic pay schedules. So I set to lookin’, and so far I found one that would like me to know that I would have “responcibilities” if I took it. Oh, don’t do me like that. If anyone is hiring, I am good at being nosy and bossy. I know my way around a spreadsheet. I will fix your dumb idea and make it look like you are the genius in charge of geniusing.
Speaking of dumb ideas, I’m going to have to fire my therapist. I was complaining about a chronic pain condition I have, and he busted out a book called “How to Heal Your Life” or something like that. The cover was a whole mess of watercolor hearts. And I sat there thinking “Oh no you di’n’t,” and he turned to the entry for my particular condition and said “ah-ha: internalizes stress, chooses sugar over real love. something something pain all your fault. Your affirmation should be ‘I am a woman, and I love my womanly body.'” And I said “You are so, so, so, so fired.” I don’t think he believed me. So I should order a singing telegram. Oh Tom Cruise, you dumb cracker, where are you with your vitamins when I need you?