so, i squared my shoulders, marched back across the street, and did just that.
as i was uprooting these leafy wonders, i started feeling the guilt descend. i knew it would. Shirley said they would become beautiful. and i was de-beautifying something. killing something beautiful. i remembered that i had recently stated "God is beauty". as i dug down in the soil, caught hold of the deep root and yanked it out i thought "i'm pulling God out of my garden".
and then i thought "janet, does anyone else think like this? are you totally weird?"
and THEN i thought "i'm sure psychopaths and philosophers have self-conversations like this one all the time". somehow that was reassuring. (!!!!) [no offense to philosophers].
Scott came out to join me and we raked and cleaned and the kids came out and collected bugs and snails with the neighbour-girl. perfect.
but back to killing beauty: a bird flew into our kitchen window today. i know what you're thinking "it's because it's so clean Janet" - and i know you're thinking it in that snotty voice of yours because you're one of my friends who rolls their eyes at my habitual cleanliness. but i swear, it's NOT clean. it has nose prints and hand prints and food and winter grime all over it, so HA! i was in the kitchen with my kids (probably wiping something), and they were eating breakfast (probably singing to each other and hugging, as per usual**) and BAM! this bird smacks into the window and then flies/falls into the tree/bush next to our house. we were stunned (probably not as much as the bird), and then we heard this horrible crying sound. seriously. the bird was crying - this hauntingly mournful caw. i think it was a seagull. what's amazing is that it left this incredible print on our window - you can see the shape of it's body and then the feathers on its wing splayed out - as though the bird was dipped in chalk before it hit the glass. it's horrible and beautiful at the same time. i keep starring at it but the whole time i'm telling myself to look away - like when scott is wearing socks and underwear but no pants. it's so horrible, but i just can't stop myself.
i spent five hours starring at a screen, clicking a mouse, typing names, preparing client statements today. five. hours. straight. i can't believe i have the gumption to be typing right now, especially since i'm going back for more tomorrow. sometimes i wonder what the worst job in the world is. here's some ideas on my list:
- anyone at the end of a 1-800 number that has the words "customer service" attached to it.
- a disney princess. at disney world/land. you might disagree (sorry ruth, and sarah), but i think that attempting to please four year old girls 8 hours a day, wearing satin and gloves and a wig, and never being allowed to just ONCE tell a whining parent to grow up = hell. i remember seeing those little girls, waiting in line to see the princesses, their hair curled and eyes covered in blue eye-shadow and dresses puffy with glass slippers and fairy wands. terrifying. i'd rather work with prisoners.
- a doctor who specializes in hemorrhoid removal.
- a mother of quintuplets who believes that breast milk is the only option.
- truckstop bathroom cleaner.
tomorrow, when i'm in hour four of computer face, i will remind myself of these other jobs and smile.
but now i really need to stop feeling the glare of laptop light on my face, so off you go. try not to kill anything beautiful.
** when i say "singing" and "hugging" what i mean is arguing over who's foot is on who's chair and attempting to be first at everything and trying to get the other in trouble and laughing about the word 'bottom'. it's code.