The One... The Only... The Vieve

Proxy

The sandwich made me less hungry, and tickled the gourmand in me, but the rest of my excursion didn't do me much good. I went to the library, and they didn't have any of the books I wanted (Eat, Pray, Love and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, or any other Roald Dahl book, really), so I got The Corrections instead, which is probably a very good book and I'll give it a shot, but it's one of those books I feel like I should read, so I already kind of resent it. (I felt the same way about Everything Is Illuminated, and I wasn't blown away and some parts irritated the shit out of me, but I enjoyed it overall.) And I had a $5 library fine (oops), but I didn't have any cash, so he reluctantly let me check out this book, and then I felt like a bad, irresponsible person.

The counter girls at Hi-Rise, with their skinny, 19-year-old hips and snotty tone really irritated me. Enough said.

The park was too windy, and so my napkin and sandwich wrapping kept blowing away. And I couldn't start reading my book, because I had to use it to hold down the paper. The cattails were brown and wintry, and there weren't many birds. The children playing made me think about too many things I didn't want to think about, and the dogs made me miss Rosie, and made me feel sad and angry that I can't have another dog right now.

And while I was sitting there in the park, chewing and listening to the wind rattle the cattail stalks, I thought about writing this. And then I thought about how I've been writing so much here lately, and it hit me that I'm used to sharing these things with you, all of these silly whimsies and small sorrows. But now I can't, and so I have to do it by proxy. And I think maybe that's the saddest thing of all.