PlazaJen: Passion Knit

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Zen and the Art of Dictatorship

So, Mr. JWo got home today from a five-day vacation of hunting, solitude, and meditation. He came home to a spic-n-span house, cleaned by this very industrious woman (not me) we hired, and many, many new forms of organization put into place in his absence, and the garage is nearly cleaned out completely, and a wife who is running around like she has been snorting cocaine all day.

We went to Red Lobster, because why dirty the sparkling-clean kitchen or eat leftovers? And we were seated by a family with a toddler who screamed, ever moment we were there. I maintained my composure, keeping focus on my Endless Shrimp and our Conversation, thinking of the Dooce post of not judging other parents because I'm childless and not accustomed to the shrieking even though I think she might have permanently warped my ear canals. Then, we got home, & my large Buddha JWo tottered off to bed, where I tucked him in with an electric blanket & proceeded to give a 10-minute dissertation on how from now on, I will hang up his ties, and how we are going to Keep Tidy, and how we are starting a new chapter in the War on Clutter. (Perhaps having a Venti Caffe Mocha at 1:30 in the afternoon was .... a little late for a power surge.)

He laughed at me, because I get on these Grand Schemes That Don't Last But Maybe This Time Is The Time It Does, but seriously, it's better to humor me than fight it, and he knows it, so he just sleepily pointed out that he was so at peace with the world, he felt like a Tibetan monk. I agreed, for he was extremely Zen and mellow, and countered with the notion that we were kind of like Ghandi and Idi Amin, because I was in a very high-key, monkey-chattering dictator sort of place.

That reminds me. I have this great idea to build a wall out of bones. Be right back.
posted by PlazaJen, 8:36 PM