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January 12, 2003

the jangling spirit

I am buoyed by accomplishments others take for granted.  For example, when I cooked a pot roast last weekend, I strutted about the house as though I had not only split the atom, but I had browned the atom and stuffed it with garlic.  Similarly, when my chores are done and I'm marinating in the order of a well-run house, I find a peace foreign to all but a scattering of scorched and bloody martyrs.

The Jangling Spirit dies a slow, painful death; but it dies nonetheless.  When that time comes, if it does, I will sweep it into a dustpan, dump it into a Hefty Cinch Sak, and place it curbside with the garbage.

©  2003 by the beastmaster