What is that word for when you avoid writing anything because there would be too much to write? ("Too much" = El Dia de los Hammies 2007; the final installment of the chips and salsa video trilogy; my battle with the DMV and how I won; Mike's battle to get a t-shirt left behind in Anaheim - current status unknown; how I slept for two days instead of attending an extremely engaging and extremely free two-day seminar/buffet that would've resulted in a free grad credit; the death of the turntable and what we didn't steal at the Salvation Army shop; and Mike's return to Epinions.)
It is that last bit that has me writing today. While I have spent day after day nuddled up in the discovery of some 18th century Swiss Mennonite ancestors (I'm practically Amish!) or raining my Seal of Justice upon troggs just outside the clean zone in Gnomeregan, Mike has shamed me by industriously composing product review after product review just three feet away. Not only is he doing his bit to add the odd nickel onto his small (but surprisingly and gratifyingly steady) "royalty" checks, but he's doing it on the old laptop. The one that shuts down without warning because I don't think we should spend $15 on a new fan when surely good news from immigration will come any day now and he can send for his real computer. (But $4 for Starbucks when I'm in a bad mood or it's just hot? Like the 106 degree weather we have every. single. day.? No problem.) He is a saint.
And worse, it gets worse, I haven't even read most of his reviews yet. Because, again, those troggs? They're often followed by grunty ambushers who come sliding down shafts out of nowhere then jump up and down slinging abuse, much like me when I can't put off peeing any longer and have to move the computer and, arrrgh, walk to the bathroom and do things and, arrrgh, walk back and sit down and see if my spells have recharged. So, I'm busy. And a horrible person. And a worse wife.
If you've any interest in the topics below, here's a small sampling of his recent reviews:
- Wine Country Trattoria (Disney's California Adventure - yum - completely boggled that the two other reviewers gave it a single star)
- Evan Almighty (surprisingly good!)
- 1408 (good, despite a bit of a lame ending that, admittedly, I'm not sure anyone could fix)
- Knife of Dreams (we're both a bit aggravated with Jordan these days)
- Priceline (very positive experiences, but be an informed user)
And as I type this? He's reviewing our massager. Because the toaster isn't on Epinions yet. What won't he judge?! Hide the Colgate! Alarm clock beware!
But it's not just for the money. (And good thing - Epinions is uncertain territory for cash.) He's sitting over there, close enough that I can nag without lifting my eyes from the screen, enjoying all of this writing. Whereas I've long been too paralyzed to write anything other than brain-decompressions on my doings, knowing anything else will just make me tired with the mediocrity that I will be too tired to remedy then too tired to think about then too tired from all of the not thinking, he is cheerfully chugging out passionate advice to the first world of consumerism. He is Mike Brady to the fluffy bleakness of my non-renewed pilot.
Anyway! I'd muse on this more, but the apathy about my apathy (which is more personality than condition with each passing year) is making me too bored to type, so it's time to give the good computer to Mike so he can tell the world how great our butt wipes are (very good, handy dispenser, don't dry out too quickly) or how amazing wet and dry Swiffering can be (it's like a butt wipe for your floor!) without fear of having to save every twelve seconds.
I will spend my offline hours continuing the excellent Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Island, perhaps quietly hoping some trogg-doffing Swiss Mennonites will show up around the part where he has the fish-out-of-water experience followed by the nostalgic-reflection experience. You know the one.
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