Issue #14

Diary of a Provincial Layabout

Tuesday: Daughter gone after 8-day visit. Feel sad. Wander about empty house. Notice dried-up gecko on glass louvre. Will wait for husband to notice and remove.

Wander back to studio to find unassembled Adjustable Laptop Table from Amazon abandoned 8 days ago. After 20 minutes succeed in creating lopsided stand, one side compressed like accordion. Ask husband for assistance. “It’s a piece of crap,” husband says. Plea for help, citing innate lack of spatial reasoning and learned lack of can-do spirit. Piece of crap now holding laptop. Quite happy with piece of crap and handy husband.

Clean out fridge and pantry. Pour two mostly-full bottles of wine down drain. Feel guilty even though worse for all if bottles consumed. Regret purchase of massive bag of pretzel crisps daughter and boyfriend did not eat, but once again consider unhealthy alternative.

Remember happy moments from daughter’s visit. Remember other bottles in recycling bin. Wonder what other people standing in line at Jo-Jo’s Shave Ice thought on Saturday when daughter gleefully announced discovery, aided by certain slant of sunlight, of unseemly thing growing from my chin. Decide it was bad idea to demand she remove it immediately. Standing belly-to-belly with her dramatically pulling pinched fingers away from my chin, again and again, is disgraceful public behavior. In future will refer to both disgraceful public behavior and chin growth as Extremely Unpleasant Business. “Extremely Unpleasant Business” is what British television detectives say when they walk away from murder scenes.

Find t-shirt daughter borrowed, splattered in mud from ATV ride. Realize it cannot be cleaned without effort that is in inverse relation to its worth. Cut off portion not mud-splattered, add to overflowing pile of rags in cabinet. Reflect on other inverse relationship: number of rags to time spent cleaning. Reflect on past irritation husband has shown towards overflowing pile of rags in cabinet. Question: why I am their staunch advocate?

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Wednesday: Look in mirror intently. Find no evidence of Extremely Unpleasant Business. Feel urge to yank things out by the roots. Fear for my eyebrows, head to garden. Spend ten minutes pulling tiny leaves. Roots, unfortunately, left intact. Pour boiling water on weeds. Think, with satisfaction, even though some of boiling water lands on toes, Die, intruders, die!

Dried-up gecko still on glass louvre. Question: is husband willfully oblivious or merely oblivious?

Fail to shine in Wordle group. Wish I had used G instead of B. Imagine other members of Wordle group, specifically the one who used G instead of B on second try, beginning day with special glow of superiority.

Wonder if there were no adult daughter around to find Extremely Unpleasant Business on chin, how long till goatee forms. Wonder why husband did not find EUB first. Will discuss with husband need to spend more time gazing at face of beloved. Emphasize self-interest, as he would be embarrassed to have wife with goatee.

With daughter gone, husband and I able to speak freely. Stimulating dinner conversation ensues. “You have a piece of rice on your arm,” I tell him. He removes piece of rice, but not right away. After dinner he wiggles finger in front of eye to inform me of need to remove something accumulating there. Very glad he does not gesture in front of chin.

Look up technical name for accumulation in eye. Learn it is called “eye discharge” and sometimes “rheum,” but also, distressingly, “eye pus,” “eye gunk,” and “eye ------” (word I don’t want to use). Settle on “rheum.” Look forward to saying to husband at dinner, “You have rheum in your eye.”

Question: Is “rheum” a good opener for Wordle tomorrow? Decide this strategy would not end smug winning streak of other group members.

Resolve to do better tomorrow (mostly in Wordle but possibly in other things too). Resolve to be humbly superior when I win Wordle.

Ask husband about gecko. Says he has been aware of it for a while. Conclude this stand-off will amuse us for at least another week or two.

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Hope this tribute to E.M. Delafield directs other readers to her 1930 book, Diary of a Provincial Lady. She’s the OG Bridget Jones, and to my mind, much funnier.

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