Jen has taken over. She is standing behind me right now
cracking the whip…er…urging me on. “Write a blog post” she says, as though it’s like blowing my nose. Unfortunately, the contents of the proverbial tissue might be more interesting than this post if I don’t address the horrible case of writers block….oh…I have just been informed that I don’t have time for writers block.
I’m not sure when this started, but as I look back over the past few months, I suppose the signs have been clear enough. Perhaps it started when Jen struck up an extra-marital Facebook affair with L. Royston Patrick, whom I’ll grant you, is quite the dandy fellow.
Can’t say as I blame her, the cultural shift in our household has been nothing short of grand. We haven’t indulged in the idiocy of mainstream television for longer than I remember, but Jen’s FB dalliances have become the content of our television screen. Now, I can watch her carrying on with Royston, a variety of world-class (street)visual artists whom she has managed to befriend, and any number of International Men of Mystery in real time. She toasts them with whiskey. She makes me take pictures.
Now, our living room, which used to be an accommodating area for the entertainment of guests, has become the rehearsal area. I have been summarily fired as Dutch Holly’s Human Resources Manager (after the Great Band Debacle of 2011), and Jen is calling the shots on who gets to play with us now.
Now that I’ve got it all down in black and white, I can’t say it’s entirely a bad thing. As I sat down to write this, she told me: “You’re the writer, so just get to work. You’ve got a video to make next.” I sigh under the weight of it. “Don’t sigh at me in that tone of voice. I’m making it happen and you are too. It’s not like you’re a servant, look I’m doing the housework while you’re typing that. I’ll be your servant as long as you’ll do my bidding.”
Fair enough. Standby for the forthcoming video that I have been assigned.