Mistakes

In Sara Suleri's novel Meatless Days, there is a character who cannot boil an egg: she pus it in the pot and as it descends inadvertently, reflexively, twists her hand so the egg cracks against the side of the pot and boils replete with "frills and gills."  Every time.

I am the same way with dependent care claims.  They combine two issues over which I am tremendously, irrationally anxious (money, children).  Never in the 4 years that I have been doing them have I been able to submit a receipt without screwing it up somehow.  I put the wrong dates, my pop-up blocker is on and I can't retrieve the form, I put the wrong SSN, I get the dollar amount wrong by a dollar, I put the right dates but in the Canadian not American order (which makes them the wrong dates, again) . . .

Now I know that I always get it wrong, which stresses me out and in being stressed out I get it wrong again.

Ultimatum to my immune system:

Either start working better so that I don't drift from pneumonia to cold to god knows what next.
OR
Take a brief time off altogether and let me catch something big enough that I can have a nice relaxing break in a hospital somewhere.

Dangerous to issue threats, I know.

Maybe I should re-phrase that one:

Either start working better so that blah blah blah.
OR
I will start eating more junk food and wine and red meat and officially give up yoga (unofficially I already have because I am always sick).  So there.

No.  The first threat was better.

Claraism du Jour, And What Winton Said

Me [to dog]: "Jesus, Hardie, why does your breath stink so much?"
Clara [to me]: "Hardie must have been stealing some of my bad breath."

Unrelated
Winton [rubbing his bath-water reddened haunches prior to putting on his PJs]: "Look, Mummy.  I'm touching my brain."

Pepita, again

This cat.  I should just re-name her Evil and be done with it.
1) she stalks inflated balloons and then pops them, on purpose.
2) she taught my other cat, Pumpkin, that the best way to wake me at night is to claw me on the lips.  Now they both do it.

Clara, violin

But Mummy, you are wrong.  The bow goes in the other hand.
[and you know what?  I think she was right]

MLK day, Clara

Clara: "Martin Luther King had a dream, and people didn't like it so they killed him."
Me: "You know that means "dream" like hope, right?  Not "dream" like what happens when you go to sleep at night."
Clara: [silence, accompanied by skeptical frown]

More MLA fallout

So I called all our no thanks candidates.  The results of this gesture (intended to be cruel but kind, altruism in its most affronting form) have been mixed.

One candidate, who had been a clear "no" for us at the MLA interview, was so charming and collegial on the phone, insisting that s/he (anonymity must prevail or I will get myself sued) had "no hard feelings" and suggesting a grant my college ought to apply for, that I  got off the phone feeling especially remorseful and wretched.

Another was so immensely peeved when I told her/him that s/he was 4th on our list, that we were in the short term planning to interview the top three, but that one never knew how things would go and there was a small chance we'd contact her/him later in the process, that s/he sent a snippy email withdrawing from our search altogether.

It's a mixed bag, trying to do this right.  I lose sleep over it.  I've been on the other end too often.