THE LEDGE

... with my back up against the wall was where I felt like I was trapped about 10 o'clock this morning. My husband convinced me that I needed to find a new bank. He was right, as usual. Why I picked today to attempt that feat is a mystery that I'm still trying to unravel. The endeavor entailed opening a new checking, as well as savings, account. Some other things needed transferring and this involved way too much paperwork, too many numbers, an enormous list of questions to be answered and no, I have never been incarcerated nor convicted of any crime, thank you. Not yet, anyway, dammit. So what we were looking at, as I said was oodles of numbers, questions, signatures, dollar signs and do you know, not one holy drop of nicotine, the one element necessary for all the rest of that crap to mean beans to me. I am an abstract thinker; tangibles and absolutes confuse and befuddle me. I probably told you this already. Numbers piss me off. Calculators are cold, metal devils. Give me an abacus anytime. They are more tactile, even pretty. I made one with my dad in third grade. We used my mother's pearls for the beads on the coat hanger rods that were soldered into a beautiful cherry picture frame. It was an effin', useful, counting piece of art. The Chinese would have been proud.

Not to change the subject, but the Chinese reference reminded me of this- I intend to study and learn the art of Mian Xiang, the ancient art of face-reading. Doesn't that sound cool? Soon as I find a certain book... I'm sure this will change my life ;-)

Back to this morning. By the time I got out of that bank, I was ready to crawl out of my skin. I tried to keep my sense of humor, which put me way out in front of the banker lady. Don't get me wrong, she was nice. Just not ha- ha nice. At one point I asked her if I would be receiving a toaster for all the paperwork I was generating all over her desk. "Um, no, I'm afraid not," she informed me frowning, like I was really expecting a toaster for crying outloud. My husband suggested maybe they could offer a lollipop as an incentive. She seemed relieved that maybe I would be pacified with that little gem. Anyway, my whole point is that you need to add "Opening a New Bank Account" to your list of things never to do the same week that you attempt to quit smoking. It is way too stressful. On top of visiting your doctor for a check-up and finding out that you have already gained 5 pounds since your last cigarette. Which was only 5 days ago. Do the math. But, on a lighter (haha) note, my dr. said my lungs sound terrific. Yay for that.

The rest of my day was good. My record store, sadly, is closing tomorrow. (Joe, Rick said to say hey and his wife gave him a trip to Ireland for Christmas and he is thrilled.) So I took advantage of the sale there and picked up some New Pornographers, Mark Knopfler, a Springsteen concert dvd and a few soundtracks I've had my eye on. This might be the end of my cd buying; I plan on filling up my new pod with downloads a-plenty. I always wanted to say "a-plenty", it sounds so hokey and wrong, like "beverage" and "out-of-doors". Makes me laugh.

I'm sure I had lots to tell you but tomorrow is another day.

STHTTMML: Don't ask me why we were talking about having to resort to eating one's pets to stay alive, but in the midst of this conversation between my spouse and I, he mentioned the necessity for owning a large dog (which we neither own a large nor a small dog) at which point I pointed out that yes, having to dine on a chihauhua (how do you spell that???) would be like eating chicken wings. I would have to insist on celery and bleu cheese to get filled up. Please, animal lovers, neither my husband nor I, in ANY way would advocate the ingestion of any pet, and most likely, NOT EVEN in a dire situation.

GSL: "I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand/ Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain." Werewolves of London, Warren Zevon