So, I’ve had the flu for the past four days or so, and among the things to suffer has been my creative flow. Essentially, instead of having coherent ideas, I have irrational feelings, cough, and/or ask, “Is anyone else freezing?” Although I’ve been working from home, my extra-curricular life has been limited to worrying that Carrie on Sex in the City is secretly judging me for being in a relationship*, and looking for a warmer pair of socks.
What’s a blogger to do what she can barely string a sentence together? The answer is obvious: make a list. When you make a list, you don’t have to sustain an argument for the entirety of a short diatribe, or even a paragraph! Not only can you skimp on writing full sentences, you usually avoid using a whole clause.
So, in honor of my roommate Meghan, whom I love, and Valentine’s Day, which I can learn to love, I will make a list of Things I Love:
1) When people say, “Holy List-Maker, Batman,” like Robin, on the Adam West Batman series.
2) The Family Guy. Unrelated to item number one, the episode I’m watching right now is making fun of Adam West.
3) When items 1 and 2 are somehow connected.
4) Meghan says: “Condiments, Rachel, you love condiments.”
5) Living in an apartment where I can eat Ketchup out of a spoon, and not be judged for it.
6) Embarrassing myself in front of strangers and writing about it on my blog:
Today, in a brief foray into the great outdoors, I managed to, for the first time in my many years as a New Yorker, fall and slip on ice in the middle of the street. That’s right, the full deal: legs shooting like darts out from underneath me, concise but pathetic landing on a part of my back low enough to constitute falling on my “butt”, and relatively attractive male my age behind me, somewhat apathetically pausing to ask, “are you ok?”
Although my grocery bags were wrapped in a convoluted knot that threatened to amputate my arm from the elbow down, I clambered to my feet. (I wanted to say, “leaped to my feet,” but that would just be a blatant lie.)
Unfortunately, Guy, with pasty bored face and frosty glasses, hung out to ensure that I was safely to the curb. I was mortified. I had to save face. I was also kind of dizzy. (bruising, flu, public humiliation, etc.) I quickly deduced that the best way to rescue my image would be explain to him, in a fabulously witty manner, that although I had indeed fallen this time, I had never fallen before. I was not the sort of girl that went out slipping on ice willy-nilly.
“Well,” I chirped. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
His face morphed into a grimace of confusion. I didn’t think it was possible, but it indicated that he felt even more sorry for me than he had before. Entangled grocery bags thumping against the side of my body that hadn’t been damaged in the fall, I scuttled away.
7) Ending things in an abrupt, awkward way.