Of all the days to come into my apartment to fix the leaky bathtub faucet, my landlord picked the day after I cleaned the shit out of the place. What are the odds? The last vestige of dirtbaggery lies in my kitchen sink, a mountain of dishes that refuse to clean themselves. Jenny Donkey’s secret to appearing adult is to invite people over and clean for them. Even if they cancel on you, at least you’ll no longer have mold in the cracks.
So Happy New Year already (eighteen days late)! My motto for 2010 (which I’m pronouncing twenty-ten and so should you): Going with the flow. So far, it’s worked out great. At the moment, I’m heating the apartment with the stove and taking time outs from writing this to stand in front of my open oven to melt the icicles from my fingers. The fridge makes noise because it doesn’t close properly and until this afternoon, the bathtub faucet leaked. Last week, a mouse crawled to its death along my living room floor while I was confirming plans online. I had my back to this grandiose death procession the whole time. But I’m just taking everything in stride and going with the flow because that’s been my motto since 2010.
Recently, I was talking with an old friend (same birth year) who had just returned from travelling and I noted how manly and philosophical he was becoming. Listening to him talk about his experience struck a chord in me and I’ve decided not to downplay my own spiritual metamorphosis. I’ve begun the count down to my adulthood having just passed the half way mark between twenty-nine and thirty (which I’m pronouncing twenty-ten and so should you). I’ve noticed subtle changes since I moved above ground and purchased the European Vacation. My taste in food, clothing and furniture is different. I’m eating better and I’ve steered clear of the food items on my list of banned substances. * Though I can still get down with a hoodie, nothing churns my butter quite like power shoulders and pencil skirts. On nights at home, I fantasize about purchasing an antique wooden cabinet in which to display deco kitsch figurines and liquor in abundant supply. The time has come for Jenny Donkey to come of age!
Perhaps it’s no coincidence that the first dress-up and dance party of 2010, the official Year of the Dress-up and Dance Party, was a time-themed dance party at my favourite Finnish sweat lodge, where David Carradine and Lady Godiva’s son guards the portal. Mel and I tore up the floor as the decades rolled by. By the mid-90s, I was ready for a break. A nagging, time-conscious voice reminded me that I was running out of time, that the night was ending and by extension, so was my life. Just as quickly, my Dionysian counterpart plied my neuroses with alcohol but was no less disconcerted after overhearing a dance fellow comment that the current song was so grade 7 when in reality it was so second year university. What’s worse for me was a visit from Jenny Old Bones, a malevolent spirit that inhabits my body for days after I fail to stretch before shaking my shimmy. My paralysis was so bad I had to stop wearing long johns. Good thing the weather is so mild for this time of year.
There it is again: time. By my estimation, I’ve got just over five months to prove that this decade wasn’t a total bust. Perhaps I should go swimming in a bowl of alphabet soup (GIC, RSP, LLB). Perhaps I should start lying about my age. Perhaps I should finally get out of my own way and get things done. One thing’s for sure. I’m not getting any younger.
*With one exception involving a giant milk chocolate Toblerone bar. It was a Christmas gift. Leave me alone.
Appendix I
List of banned substances:
1. Refined sugar in anything not homemade.
2. Prepared food from the freezer section of the grocery store
3. Milk- or espresso-based drinks made with syrup or from powder
4. Anything with ingredients greater than four syllables in length
5. Beer
6. Reddish meat
