Crazy Guilt
What is it about guilt?
Here I am, three days into a cold; stuffy nose (unless it’s running,) chills then fever, and a very addled brain. Poor me. Have I mentioned that I’m an absolute baby if I’m sick? To the extent that last night for dinner I ate a Stouffers Mac & Cheese, a sacrilege in this house, (can’t vouch for the flavor of course but the texture was surprisingly good,) and I experienced an intense hankering for SpagettiOs briefly. How very strange.
And now I’ve got this chatter in my head; two voices carrying on a ridiculous dialog about mowing the grass.
Slave Master: “The lawn needs mowing. It’s a sunny (though windy) afternoon. The grass is perfectly dry. You could just do the front and side; 30 minutes tops. Waiting another day will just mean taller grass and more work.”
Baby: “But I don’t feel good. The house is so warm and toasty. My hands are cold. I don’t want to work outside.”
Slave Master: “What, are you nuts? You love to work on the lawn. Your hands will get warm once you get moving.”
(Yadda, yadda, yadda, back and forth. I realized I was feeling actual guilt for not mowing. What gives with that?)
Question: Why on earth would you feel guilty for not mowing? Am you trying to impress people by your neatly cut lawn?
Answer: Nope.
Question: Do you answer to someone?
Answer: No. Wait. Yes, it turns out I do: my internal Slave Master.
Question: What’s the worse thing that happens delaying the mowing?
Answer: Too much of the grass blades will get cut – which inhibits healthy growth. The mower will spit big clumps of grass clippings which drown the grass beneath – unless I rake – so more work.
Look who sneaks back into the conversation
Slave Master: “Too late for any snakes to be sunning.”
Baby: “Good point. Oh for the love of Mike, all right. But I’m not mowing the parking strip.”
Hello in there? Do you hear yourself? You are guilting yourself out with this odd discourse going on totally inside your head. Is this a sign of multiple personality syndromes? Two warring personalities that aren’t integrated? Oh no.
I mowed.
(Snakes had retired for the evening.)
Here I am, three days into a cold; stuffy nose (unless it’s running,) chills then fever, and a very addled brain. Poor me. Have I mentioned that I’m an absolute baby if I’m sick? To the extent that last night for dinner I ate a Stouffers Mac & Cheese, a sacrilege in this house, (can’t vouch for the flavor of course but the texture was surprisingly good,) and I experienced an intense hankering for SpagettiOs briefly. How very strange.
And now I’ve got this chatter in my head; two voices carrying on a ridiculous dialog about mowing the grass.
Slave Master: “The lawn needs mowing. It’s a sunny (though windy) afternoon. The grass is perfectly dry. You could just do the front and side; 30 minutes tops. Waiting another day will just mean taller grass and more work.”
Baby: “But I don’t feel good. The house is so warm and toasty. My hands are cold. I don’t want to work outside.”
Slave Master: “What, are you nuts? You love to work on the lawn. Your hands will get warm once you get moving.”
(Yadda, yadda, yadda, back and forth. I realized I was feeling actual guilt for not mowing. What gives with that?)
Question: Why on earth would you feel guilty for not mowing? Am you trying to impress people by your neatly cut lawn?
Answer: Nope.
Question: Do you answer to someone?
Answer: No. Wait. Yes, it turns out I do: my internal Slave Master.
Question: What’s the worse thing that happens delaying the mowing?
Answer: Too much of the grass blades will get cut – which inhibits healthy growth. The mower will spit big clumps of grass clippings which drown the grass beneath – unless I rake – so more work.
Look who sneaks back into the conversation
Slave Master: “Too late for any snakes to be sunning.”
Baby: “Good point. Oh for the love of Mike, all right. But I’m not mowing the parking strip.”
Hello in there? Do you hear yourself? You are guilting yourself out with this odd discourse going on totally inside your head. Is this a sign of multiple personality syndromes? Two warring personalities that aren’t integrated? Oh no.
I mowed.
(Snakes had retired for the evening.)
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