April 11, 2010

i woke up

I just finished a bowl of pasta the size of which is against (probably) every health rule existing, including the old-fashioned food pyramid which I hear is all wrong now.

Mind you, I don't eat pasta very much anymore because I listen to what they say about carbs. Or I try to. Except I'm half Sicilian. And telling a Sicilian not to eat pasta to avoid carbs is like telling a beagle not to bark to avoid annoying the neighbors.

I compromised though. I put butter and grated cheese on it. Does avoiding tomatoes get me any points? Or the fact that I used low-carb noodles? With all that butter and cheese, they didn't taste low carb at all. And I hardly missed the red sauce.

People underestimate the power of butter.

And to think that last week I was on a health kick. Walking even. Got up to 2 miles in a day - I think that's a record for me. The last time I walked 2 miles in a day I was 14 and on horseback.

But here's the real thing.

I saw my house today.

I mean I opened my eyes and SAW the condition of the house. Not just the minor points of disrepair, or even the major scuffs and holes and wear and tear. Not just the molded carpet edges or the spider webs (web is too gentle a word - brick-and-mortar maybe?).

I don't mean I saw a mess. I mean I witnessed the neurotic letting go of things, the dissociation from one's surroundings that happens when disrepair in the mind allows denial to obscure what the eyes see.

Did I mention 2009 was a Real Bitch? Yeah, it almost took us down. But we hung onto beams by bloody fingertips while the walls around us collapsed.

If that kind of thing continues, it can get you into big trouble. (I'm talking inpatient.)

Maybe it was Jenna's neighborhood friend, who followed us into the house for the first time today. I always find myself only seeing what "they" see when "they" first enter. "They" are strangers -- people who don't "not see" what I don't "not see."

But I saw. Everything. Everywhere.

It almost made me want to start picking up the mess. Except that every room seems to be a priority at once, and conflicting categories of messes confuse and confound me. How to get anything accomplished?

And so, I tell myself that it's ok. I will get there. I tell myself that today I woke up. And I saw what the last year was like. All at once. A wave. A cascading, overwhelming reminder.

And that's why I ate a half of a box of pasta.

With butter and grated cheese.

Which tasted really really good.


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