Been a while, eh? My apologies, but I have been busy travelling, talking, writing, going to school, and ignoring my kids. This all takes energy. I have also been practicing my tweeting -- something my publishers are keeen on. Not that I am making them happy, since their goal is to PROMOTE MY PRODUCT AND BRAND (they actually talk like this) THROUGH SOCIAL MEDIA and my goal is TO AMUSE MYSELF AND A FEW OTHERS AND NOT LOOK LIKE A DOUCHE BY SAYING
LOOKIT ME LOOKIT ME LOOKIT ME NOW! AREN'T I GREAT? (this is how I talk) THROUGH SOCIAL MEDIA.
So today's blog is about dish soap. I have run out, and have to buy a new bottle. And I glot to thinking about that, and realized that the last time I had to buy some dish soap I was in the middle of writing a book and wondering where I was going to live and listening to Ed drum for hours in the basement of the house in Cobourg and dashing around in my 2-door putt-putting car. And now, 1 bottle of dish soap later, I am living in the big city with a bike and a book tour and a car with only 1 door. (Long story involving a too-tight turn and a gentle crunching sound. The net result is that when my kids join me in the car these days I roll down the passenger side window and they do a General Lee entrance -- see pic below.)
My point is that time can be measured in numbers -- hours and months and decades -- and also in regular actions and purchases, and these vary as do chronometric units. To say to someone,
I'll see you in a couple of milk cartons would indicate a different time span than,
I'll see you in a couple of dentist appointments or
In a couple of major home renovations or, going the other way,
In a couple of toilet flushes. For me, dish soap is somewhere in between
cereal boxes and
bay leaves.
Now do you understand why my publishers shake their heads at me? I'm sure I could find something more career-related to talk about, but I don't want to. I would rather measure out my life in dish soap than tell you about my upcoming book launch.
