Laundry: an Expose

We recently bought a new washing machine - apartment size. I couldn't tell you who made the thing but it also gets HDTV and makes ice. It's a front loader - very European don't you know. It trills a little ditty when you turn it on, and sings a chorus when the cycle is through. It has 34 different wash/rinse combinations and when you add in the options for water temperature, the freedom of choice becomes exponentially larger. It has other features - a digital timer and surround sound - but my favourite is the Jiffy Wash. I'm in a hurry today, I thought I'd try it. The digital timer says 32. For a normal wash it's 57. And my thinking on this is that if I have an item of clothing that won't be clean after 32 minutes in soap and water, I should throw it out.

Queen of Swords

I am beginning to be concerned about the number of times I've found myself in angry confrontations with random men lately. By actions, words and demeanour, these men have publicly, loudly and aggressively proclaimed their misogynist, homophobic, narrow minded bigotry in an effort to convince everyone around them that they are superior. The poor guys, I mean can you imagine feeling so small and impotent and useless that you are driven to impose your own fear back onto those you view as inferior to you? They are cowards, every one of them.

They throw around racial, religious and sexual epithets with a refreshing lack of discrimination. The one constant in their behaviour is that it is always a woman who is getting the brunt of their ignorance.

My immediate response is to want to suddenly acquire some kind of superpowers, and tear him limb from limb. I enjoy brief visions of watching the fear in his eyes while I show him who is really in charge. But I am not Buffy, and I am soon beginning to wonder about the ways he might find to hurt me if I don't back down. And that makes me angry. I am more disturbed than I can say by the realization that I'm easier to scare than I used to be. Last week, a TTC special constable told me to stop talking to people. Can you imagine?

And that's the crux of the issue. Of course I am beginning to resemble the bullies; I am letting myself become almost as frightened as they are. I can't let that happen. Nor can I pretend that there's nothing to fear. I guess I just have to learn to pick my battles.

Road Trip

When Celine Dion sang "I Drove All Night?" did you believe it? I didn't. She probably doesn't even have a driver's license. Can you imagine? Picture Celine Dion behind the steering wheel. It could be a Jaguar convertible, she would still look out of place. On the other hand, when Cyndi Lauper tells you she drove all night, you are prepared to believe that she broke out of prison and stole a car just so she could drive it all night, smoking the whole way to get to you cause that's how much she wants you. And what about "crept in your room"? Celine Dion creeping? Into a bedroom? I keep garlic and a crucifix on my door just in case. Cyndi, on the other hand.....