Plastic Fish

My lovely boyfriend gave me three gifts this week, which is unusual. He gave me a bouquet of fake flowers, which he wire-wrapped together, a cherry scented candle (which I wish were a food, it smells so good) and a bottle of the best lotion ever (even if the name is completely silly). The flowers, which made me deliriously happy, are, I admit, very silly. They’re very pink, and very fake, and wonderful. Anyway, he gave them to me, so I love them. My mother, on the other hand, took it upon herself to tell me (although not exactly in such terms) that the gift was frivolous and stupid. I didn’t reply to her, but for some reason the comment stuck, and it’s been bothering me.

Of course the flowers are frivolous and stupid--that’s the point. My boyfriend knew that when he gave them to me. He knew that I don’t need plastic flowers that don’t really match my room! That isn’t their purpose. They’re to remind me that he thinks about me when I’m not there, and that sometimes pretty things don’t have to be expensive, useful, or ceremonial (because, after all, there isn’t some holiday this week that he could be acknowledging with the gift). They’re just meant to be a silly reminder of him, for me, and they do serve that purpose very well. They make me smile every time I see them, and even if my mom thinks they’re dumb and wasteful, I still love them.

Last night, my sister stabbed me in the foot with a steak knife. Of course, it wasn’t on purpose and while I bled a little bit, I’m not actually injured. Still, it hurt pretty bad. The strange part, though, is that last night, I had a dream where she took my computer and printed out all of my privet documents. I became angry, in the dream, and tried to beat her face, but I felt like I was moving through water instead of air, and so I wasn’t able to really hit her. It was very dissatisfying.

On Sunday, I was at work, and I was taking old price stickers off merchandise with a dull box cutter, and my thumb hurt from pushing the blade. My feet hurt from standing. My back and shoulders hurt from hunching over the little craft supplies, and I was grumpy. I didn’t really want to be at work, and I let myself acknowledge that, and instead of bringing inner peace, it made me more grumpy. Clutching a miss-priced spool of ugly ribbon in my hand, I slapped the blade down, and worked it under the green sticker which proclaimed, “SALE-- $1.44,” in chunky, blurred black letters. Then I realized something.

I was mad because I felt like they were stealing my weekends from me.

Then I realized something else.

They weren’t stealing my weekends from me, they were buying my weekends from me. And I was selling my weekends to them. Then, while standing at the center island of the moderately sized craft store, tired and a little sweaty, I worked out just how much I was selling my weekends for, and realized that (ignoring government taxes, because I, shamefully, do not know exactly how much they take out) I was selling my weekends for $96.00 each.

The more I thought about this, the more I realized I thought this was a fairly fair price, given that really, I was just selling my mornings and afternoons, and not selling my evenings. It wasn’t like I was doing really backbreaking or mentally demanding work, either. I was more cheerful after realizing all of this, until my boss asked me to work the next day, too.

I have twenty six cents, a ukulele and a depressing number of papers strewn across my bedroom floor, and it makes me feel conflicted. Deep down, I have a strong desire to live a life with minimal stuff near me, and I think this is why I don’t allow much to be kept in my bathroom. On the other hand, I like having the stuff, and I am lazy, so things, especially papers from last quarter, tend to sit near the waste bin until I empty my trash. There they sit, making me feel cluttered and disorganized, and I wish I knew how to motivate myself to create a clean and clutter-free environment for myself.

I’ve long had this feeling that there is a system which, if only I could stumble upon it, would make my life suddenly snap into place and force everything to be easy. I’m starting to think that perhaps that doesn’t really exist and that looking for it is as foolish is trying to find skill-free make-up tips.

I also need to clean out my fish tanks. The water is fine (that is, the ammonia levels and all) but there is some algae growing on the sand in my larger tank. I’m thinking that I want to get some more fish for that tank, too, and I think I want balloon mollies (or is it mollys?) I’m shallow enough, though, that I’m worried they won’t match my lovely pearl that I already have living there, so I’ve been thinking about just getting a cloud of glo-light tetras for now. We’ll see how that goes.