Brace yourself: When I sat down here to write you, my computer told me it has more updates.
In other less-predictable news, Edsel got his heart medicine one month ago today. One of the bottles had a month’s supply in it, and today there are exactly two pills left. He got his morning pill just now and he’ll get his evening pill tonight. So he got every pill he was supposed to this month. Say “pill” one more time.
I tell you this because as absent-minded as I am anymore—and OH MY GOD IT’S ANNOYING. As many times as I walk into the kitchen and the dishwasher door is open and half unloaded,
as often as I walk into a room with half-put-away clothes,
as often as I get to work with no pants,
the many nights I’ve awoken in the hospital because I forgot to breathe again,
as often as I find myself floating in space because I’ve misplaced the laws of gravity,
AS MUCH AS THIS HAPPENS
I was flawless about giving my dog his pill that, you know, keeps him alive. So does this mean my forgetfulness is voluntary? And I keep it together when I really need to?
I guess “forgetfulness” isn’t even the word. It’s distractibility. I start a thing and then the siren song of another thing lures me away.
Maybe I was flawless about the pills because it’s easy to remember to plunk a pill into his bowl at feeding time, seeing as he would never in a million years let me forget feeding time. If I had to do something that took longer, like sew him a pinafore every day, I wonder if I’d manage to do that flawlessly.
Step one: Look up what a pinafore actually is. Is it that little frilly thing at the front of a dress, like what Alice in Wonderland had on?
True confession: I just Googled it, got results, then forgot to actually read what it was before I came back here.
Speaking of Alice, she says distractedly, I keep seeing on social media pages that there’s this channel called Disney Plus or Disney Also Too or something like that, and every adult I know is losing his or her mind over it and is all, OH MY GOD THEY’RE SHOWING COLD BRAID GIRLS EXCUSE ME WHILE I WATCH.
What’s that one cartoon everyone got the vapors over a few years ago? Chilly? Brisk? Icy? Is that even a Disney movie or is it Pixar? Are Disney and Pixar the same thing?
I feel like the only person in America who doesn’t much care about Disney. Is it because I never had kids? It’s it because I have ice in my veins? Now, I’ll watch an old Dumbo or Bambi or Cinderella. All those there-is-no-mother cartoons we watched to become chapfallen Gen X. But I wouldn’t, like, cancel my series over any of them. I wouldn’t cancel culture over them.
I know grown women who have shirts with Disney characters on them.
What is this thing? What am I missing? Other than Minnie ears.
It is with these deep thoughts that I leave you, with a note under your pillow and a warm smile while you sleep.
While I’ve been writing this meaningful tome, she says, not leaving you, Edsel has been outside, as he is wont to do occasionally. Every so often he hangs in the yard for a bit, sniffing the perimeter, peeing on his pee tree, getting O lips at the pit bull who gets walked past our house 48 times a day. (I seriously don’t know why that dog needs that many walks. But he’s a sweet huge-headed thing who wags politely when you see him. Edsel is going to protest at that dog’s funeral.)
Anyway, I got up just now to see if he was over it and ready to come in, and indeed he was. He was at the back steps, but was still looking out over his domain, in case a squirrel tried to scurry past. He had his earpiece on and his sunglasses, wearing his suit and no-nonsense expression.
He looked so dignified that I minced in here and got the camera, and I like how our telephones are now “the camera,” but once I got back there he sensed my terrible nearness and did this.
So there is no dignified Eds photo for you, just this plaintive one where even his feets seem to have turned white now, and goddammit. Stop turning white. Stop needing heart meds. Just stop. Go back to this: