Dial A Cliché to the rescue

In those rare occasions during which I am feeling verbally lackluster, unable to put the cartoonish thought bubbles together with real live fiery communicative words, it can become a slightly spirit-lifting (or, perhaps, spirit leveling -depending on how desperately one needs a lifesaving cliche to fit a bill and then how poorly it stands under the scrutiny) test to turn to Dial A Cliché for a tiny palate cleansing taste of inspiration.

Thinking that my cartoon thought bubble neuropathy had something to do with a sprain in my decision-making lobe, I headed directly to the category 'For When You Cannot Make A Decision', wherein lay the golden nugget I'd sought:

If it doesn't come naturally, leave it

OF COURSE! THAT is what I've been missing all this time, leaving things alone! The dirty dishes, the laundry, the vacuuming, the dusting, the dried-up grass cat pukeballs, the kitchen floor crumb-combo-cat hair layer, the stacks of unread mags, the still larger stacks of unopened mail, the clutter, AND my wordlessness -- I should be leaving them alone, untackled, because for heaven's sake none of them feels natural to address.

Only ... um, well that's exactly what I have(n't) been doing for months now. Oh I have with near religious university science department fervor observed them each, collectively, mounting, growing, morphing. But I've done little to nothing about any of them, with the possible exceptions of 'ignore', 'pretend to not see', and quite possibly the additional 'swallow my feelings of revulsion/alarm'.

Obviously, that cliché has gone the way of so many over-hunted, over-eaten delicacies that now line the extinction charts. New cliché; I need a new one.

I'm trying to figure out where my words went; I'm trying to understand why I can't get a solid grip on all the things I can't get a solid grip on. And I'm certain there must be a cliché that will explain the phenonema. Hmm, this category seems to fit: 'When you are trying very hard and not having any success'.
Aaaahh, here it is:

If at first you don't succeed, redefine success.

How to redefine these glaring omissions of daily personal care and activities?
Well, I might not have opened the mail for going on two months, but nearly ALL the mail previous to that time has seen the sharp side of the letter opener. (hey, this is interesting. Makes me feel tingly.)

Ooh Ooh Ooh - that was good, let's do another! mmm... I may have a contant sludging flow of dirty dishes stagnating near the kitchen sink however I have not resorted to using the antique platter that is stored in the bottom bin of the oven for serving macaroni and cheese, nor have I brought out the Easter egg style Jell-O Jigglers molds to be used in place of the grubby ice cube trays. (wheee! I think I'm liking this! It's so easy!)

Don't stop me now! Three cats' worth of tracked litter, hairballs and barfed-up grassballs is so much better non-managed than, say, six cats' worth. Just think how messy that would be; my floors are positively sparkling in comparison! (I think I need a private moment here - this is a reverential experience I'm having. Do I have a glow? Can you see my Holy Glow?)


I'm positively giddy.
I've turned over a whole new leaf.
I'm a blushing bride.
I'm happy as a schoolgirl.
etc.
etc.
etc.
blahblahblah, yadda yadda.

Nothing like a good cliché to purge the demons. In fact I feel so swell I think I'll just pull over a stack of years-old magazines and put my feet up for a few. Aaahhhhh...

North Carolina roadside wildflowers

I am part canine

McBeth.

I have been scanning old family photographs in hopes of one day being able to provide each of my sibs and other interested kin with a photographic collection of the few pictures we have remaining between us.

This photograph makes me grin each and every time I look at it. To the left, my maternal great-grandfather Clyde. To the right, his brother (whose name currently escapes me. But I do have it written down. Somewhere. Really. I do).

I'm fairly sure my great-grandfather was part bulldog. Cute bulldog, of course, but probably growly and drooly and occasionally (!) ill-tempered.