Retail Therapy

  This "author" no longer has a subject for this blog. You were probably under the mistaken impression that it was about nothing anyway, similar to "Seinfeld," but lacking the millions of dollars in revenue for the creator. This assumption obviously offends me greatly, as I do in fact write about very specific subject matter, and could possibly someday make five or even ten dollars in endorsement deals doing so.

   I imagine the Utah Tourism Committee would offer me large sums to deny my Utah residency, and move somewhere else, like Idaho. I would naturally tell them that idea was preposterous, as we all know Idaho is part of Utah anyway. They do have a their own BYU up north, to provide extra land on which to grow missionaries and husbands. But, this blog does have a main topic, and it is neither Western U.S. Geography nor the cultivation of spouses, so I would appreciate if you would cease distracting me and let me get on with my point, because it is very important.



  Now that I have my own attention, if not yours, I will gladly make the subject of my writing clear. This blog is a fascinating documentary about a depressed, anxious, neurotic housewife, who never goes anywhere or does anything. Never. Not even sometimes. (OK, I do now, but my best tales come from years ago, when I was far more mentally ill than the bubbling brook you see before you today, or WOULD see, if we were Skype friends.)  Naturally, such upbeat and informative pieces could not fail to draw fans.

Don't I look bubbly?

   I speak to those of you who are afraid to leave your own kitchen, unless you are like I am, and are afraid of your kitchen, but that is a tale for another post. I began telling my life stories because I was certain that I was crazier than anyone who might read my words, and could make you all feel better about your own mental states. But, after living for 30 years (I have done the 30th year 4 times, but who's counting besides my physician?) I have realized that I am in fact pretty average.

   I entered my child's classroom this week to see that antibacterial pencil sharpeners are standard issue at their school. Readers, I promise I am not making this up. When I reached for the antibacterial wipes to finish off any brave bacteria (bacterium? bacterias? bacterial entities? I don't speak Medical.) that the sharpener had failed to destroy, I was truly amazed at the number of boxes of these things in my Kindergartner's room. Salmonella bugs must have been running in terror from the sight of me and my Tissues of Death.

   Which part of the sharpener even kills these germs? Does the blade on the inside chop them into tiny pieces, destroying them in this brutal fashion? Or, is the handle impregnated with chlorine bleach? More importantly, who invented such devices, and who at the school purchased them? Could it be that I am not any more neurotic than anyone else?

Lethal Weapon

   The longer I am on Earth, and on the Amazon website, the more I see that we are all becoming completely paranoid. I could probably procure antibacterial coffee tables on this site, as well as on any other retail destination. Shopping is no longer a casual hobby for the young. It is a lifesaving mission. And so it is with pleasure that I pronounce myself completely "normal." I am no more panic-disordered than the makers of any modern appliance, clothing, or beauty product.


   Unfortunately, that leaves me with nothing interesting about which to write. I'm doomed instead to a career as an inventor, creating things like garden hoes that double as floatation devices, in case of dangerous over watering. Look for my line on Amazon.