The Collector

I have a talent for collecting random men. I find them at work, on hiking trips, through other friends. They’re so shiny and pretty, men! So easy to talk to when the chips are down or my computer needs fixing. So broad-shouldered, so adventurous, so…male.



But sometimes I get distracted by all the random men. I get confused by a comforting presence, a fun time, a glimmer of attraction. And because I’m so scared of being alone I grab for some sparkly man in my collection– usually the cheapest, flimsiest, prettiest one, – and think, aha, the answer to all my problems!



This has not worked well for me. And I want to know if it's possible to keep collecting but stop grabbing.



Out, Damned Spot!

I have been feeling like Lady Macbeth of late. Because there is a spot on the hardwood floor in my bedroom that is (will the squeamish please stop reading here) a remnant of bodily fluids left by Indie Rock Dad. I do not know how to get it out.



And it is always there, taunting me, every time I’m forced to open my closet door (which is often, considering I usually try on at least two outfits before leaving the house).



I obsess about this spot.



This morning I kept putting an unread copy of “Blind Assassin” over it, but I had move the book every time I opened my closet, and then replace it after I'd closed the closet door.

This is not the behavior of a well person.







A Good Kind of Spot

So you all know about The Garage. The narrow, 1920s garage that within two weeks of the start of our relationship put a nasty gash in my new Subaru.



Well. Having learned some difficult life lessons recently, I put a stop to our relationship soon thereafter, though it was tempting to keep trying. I mean, who wants to search for parking in a sketchy neighborhood at 2 a.m. in the rain, and then have to walk five blocks home carrying twenty bags and backpacks (as I am wont to do?)



As soon as I told my well-manicured and deceptively benign landlord, regretfully, that I would have to give up my new spot, he said “Oh, why don’t you just park next door in my other building?”



Having heard of the fabled “modern” garage in this building, I asked with some suspicion, “How much does it cost?”



“Oh,” he said, “it’s cheaper!”



Thanks for telling me about this before, landlord buddy.



But at least now my dented Subaru can rest in the embrace of a big modern garage that’s easy as pie to park in – even for moi.