cat-lady-in-waiting

Yesterday I decorated my apartment for Christmas, which I wasn't going to do, because who was I going to do it for, just me? The theory being that, instead of making me feel cheerful, decking the halls for just yours truly would be a bit depressing. Au contraire. It's cute in here, and it did improve my state of mind.

Thing is, though, I woke up this morning with the following thought: What if it isn't cute in here at all? What if someone else came into my apartment, which I think looks just fine, took one look around, then dialed the nearest mental institution? Like maybe I'm like that guy in 'A Beautiful Mind' or something. I hide it well enough for my students and the neighbs and the people I see in public or over at their houses, and meanwhile my surroundings look perfectly normal to me, because I'm CRAZY, and my dog doesn't care anyway, 'cause he's a dog, but step into my apartment and blammo, it's cuckoo time.

I heard this archived This American Life episode the other day? About obsession? Where this woman beaded a kitchen? That is to say, she covered every surface in the whole room -- appliances, walls, everything from soup cans to nutcrackers -- with tiny glass beads. This took five years, so I don't think I'm quite there yet, but this line of reflection has me somewhat concerned. I'm not scared of becoming one of those cat ladies, you know, the ones who live alone except for those nine hundred cats or whatever, but mostly I'm not scared because I'm allergic to cats. If I'm not careful, that could become the only thing stopping me.

So I guess I need to do two things: first, I need to stop living alone before my idiosyncrasies totally take hold. I need there to be someone else here to walk in on me and say, "what on God's green earth are you DOING?" before it's too late for that to make any difference. Second, I need to sit my ass down and write Chapter Three already, because this Christmas decorating, senseless shopping, loafing, munching, special-features-watching, may all be just one great big evasive tactic aimed at not working on my thesis.

Which reminds me.