I’ve been knocked flat – or, I suppose, semi-upright but hunched over – by morning sickness again the past few days. Would really, really rather not turn this blog into one long vent about my state of nausea, but at this point it’s very hard to form a coherent thought, much less stringing more than two together.
It’s OK, really, because it’s reassuring, in an odd sense, and has taught me to be deeply grateful for whoever decided to tile the bathroom walls instead of just paint and/or wallpaper… tile is just so much cooler to lean up against.
So, the Madhouse thing? I just couldn’t, today. It’s about poverty, something I have certainly experienced and could come up with serious, intense sorts of ideas about the topic in general, or my history in particular, except that serious and intense typically requires more oomph than I have.
Having just dropped a frightening amount of money upon the counters at several local retailers, mostly to build an entire new work wardrobe for Willem – somehow the attire suitable for an adjunct professor, then high school teacher, then grad student, just doesn’t quite make the grade for an associate professor – I could make some pale joke about our own efforts toward poverty, but the reality is, we’re doing OK. The bank account isn’t exactly bursting at the seams, but we have a firm safety net in place with a good outlook for the long term, and I have a basis for comparison that includes literally scrounging through the couch cushions for lunch money, so – no matter what certain fan club members might say – we’re not paupers.
Instead, I’ll leave you with the list of other sometime-Madhouse participants, with hopes that one of them was a bit more on the ball than I was. And I’ll do what I can to write more in-advance posts, for the days when the phrase “puked my brains out” feels a bit too accurate.