Five Things I will Never Do Again

I thought for my last day, since the trade winds have soothed me into a contemplative mood, I’d explore my own list of Five Things I Will Never Do Again. Things that no matter how busy I get, or bored I am, or anxious, or cranky, or dispirited I am, you will never, ever see me do. These aren’t like resolutions or anything, they’re simply things I’ve done that I’ve outgrown, one way or another.

Okay, probably these should go in ascending order.

Number 5:

Attempt murder

I will probably never again pull the plug from a desk lamp halfway out of its socket, turn the light switch to the ‘on’ position, and put a hanger on it to “collect” electricity with which to electrocute my older sister. Yes I was probably five years old at the time, but five years had been more than enough to teach me that living with my sister was not going to be a piece of cake. Electricity. It goes through wires. If I could just get enough of it on that hanger… The concept was daring. Noble even. The execution? Was very nearly mine.

All right. It wasn’t a good thing. But it’s pretty funny in retrospect because no one got hurt. I went through the air and made a dent in one wall of our smallish bedroom, and set fire to the other at the same time. Good times.

Number 4:

Smoke cigarettes

A lot of the characters in my books smoke, most famously Yamane from Drawn Together. Most of my readers attribute this to the fact that I’m a mom and I have everyone’s health in mind, so I’m making a stand for a tobacco-free lifestyle from a position of love. Not so. Rory was a character in the book, and the truest words about my attitude toward smoking came from a different character altogether, the cardiologist Edward, who say’s “I quit about five years ago, but when I’m under pressure I still feel like I’d kill just to lick someone who smokes. I tell my patients that nobody ever really quits.”

I don’t smoke. I did it briefly and quit because I really thought I had better things to do. But that doesn’t mean if the American Cancer Society came out and said Psych! tomorrow, We were wrong, cigarettes don’t kill you or those around you and we just found out they’re terrific for you, that I wouldn’t start again. There would be tire tracks smoking from my healthy little house to the 7 Eleven.

Number Three:

Drink Alcohol

I know this makes me boring and for years I gave that hard drinking, tortured artist thing a whirl. I’m just no good at it. It makes me cranky sure, and I can work up a good head of righteous indignation and angst all over the place, weather permitting. But it also gives me a foreign accent and a tendency to order drinks for handsome men who are not my husband. Once or twice I’ve surely been possessed by the late great Tallulah Bankhead and done some really unforgettable things I wish I could remember, but have heard about only second hand.

The one thing I’ve discovered, though, about being almost the only person at a gathering who doesn’t drink is that everyone wants to know why. The truth is so boring that I can’t even tell it with a straight face. So I prefer to maintain a mystery. With women I make jokes. “Sure, why don’t I just install landing lights up my thighs and make things even easier.” But with men? First I tell them that I lose complete control of my libido, and then I hint that they’d very likely never survive the outcome of that. That’s usually good for a great deal of attention, and really. Who doesn’t like that?

Number 2:

Relocate

I will never move again. Not from this house, not for a mouse, not with a box, not with a fox. Not on a train, not while I’m sane. I will not move again. Just burn it down around me Gilbert Grape, there is nothing to see here.

Number One:

Take Anything For Granted

That’s right, you knew I had to end it on one of my patented folksy, feel good, preachy bits. It’s true. I don’t think I take anything for granted. Now, sure as shit, I’m thinking there’s something I’ve forgotten and it’s going to disappear like that, snap, because I forgot to be grateful. Which isn’t really how it happens or why you do gratitude in the first place is it?

My stars. I’m the luckiest person on earth and I know it. I love who I live with, I love what I do. My family is good, even my obnoxious sister who really (mostly) doesn’t still cause those scary dreams that necessitated the comic book deathrays that inhabited my childhood fantasies about her. Work is just more fun than I deserve. And I got to spend three days boring the pants off normal people while I’ve been here on the island.

Thanks so much for the lovely mini vacation! I know I’ll be looking on fondly while others inhabit this great big dent I’ve left in the sand. ;-)

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.