Doldrum

So as you’ve probably (not) read, I am without internet access for the time being. 

But instead of being lame and not blogging at all and using the no-internet excuse like I do for all my e-mail, I’m blogging in advance.

It’s a thing I like to call… the Anteblog!!!!

It’s like that time in fifth grade when you were learning about the Civil War, and all the teachers made a point of telling you that “Antebellum” meant the time period before the war because “Ante” means Pre- and “bellum” means War in the original Latin or whatever.

Yeah. It’s just like that time.

But in order to keep morale placid and spirits high, I shall not post all of these entries at once so that my readers can gorge themselves on all the recent Allie-ness like a box of donuts, but rather I shall post one of these a day so that my readers may savor them like dark chocolate squares.

I know this is slightly less fun for you, but some (Mum) might even argue that the dark chocolate is better donuts like that simile is even relevant anymore.

During the move, I came across my “life’s work of books” which was a box filled with notebooks and journals from fourth grade through middle school. Needless to say, I outgrew the box.

But the contents of the box are so incredibly distracting.

It’s like I can’t remember ANYTHING about who I used to be before all of life happened to me. What did I used to think about before Orlando Bloom? Books? I used to read things? REALLY? According to a twelve-year old me, The Sound and the Fury was not a very good book. Indeed, what a strange sixth grader I was.

Mike: “You were a weird kid. You’re still weird.”

But among all the dullness, there are delightful little quotes and stories that make me fall back on the bed in boisterous laughter. And so I keep reading along, like my life is a brand new story I’ve never read before.

I halfway expect to open up one and instead of seeing a true story, seeing “YOU SHOULD KNOW. YOU WERE THERE!”

But, you see, Little Allie did not write all of these for the amusement of Future Allie. I really thought that I would be some grandiose author/singer/actress (apparently) one day and while someone was scrounging around in my bedroom trying to piece together an autobiography while I was dead and gone, they would come across this box of Lisa Frank diaries and 3 subject notebooks. Instead of being appalled at how silly and stupid I was, they would think it brilliant and platitudinous and publish it, furthering whatever reputation I had.

It was cute in some weird Anne Frank sense of the word.

But doesn’t everyone want to be famous when they’re young?

Now my dream is not to be famous but to live like a retired person where I don’t have to BE anywhere.  Every time I do a tax return where someone’s occupation is “homemaker”, I sigh and dream about how simply wonderful it would be to be an oppressed housewife in the 1960s.

Where income just comes in and then I can do whatever I like while my limbs and joints still function like they’re supposed to.

I have these neighbors. 

I assume they’re retired because their house is gorgeous (at least on the outside). They have a screened in porch and all these nice flowers out back. The couple spends time outside together, gardening, landscaping, and doing chores, and I just admire how fruitful their retirement is.

Side note: they have this dog named Savannah, which I guess sounds better than a dog named Pooler.  I know this because Sam was doing kitty things along the edge of the fence, which annoyed the dogs, and then everybody yelled trying to get all the animals to shut up.

I guess this is one of those times where the grass is greener on the other side of the fence (literally and figuratively).

I need to work out. I wonder if there’s a way to say that without sounding like a prick,
TWS