1999 january 13

hope springs eternal

in some alternate universe i am convinced cap'n crunch cereal is used as a form of torture.

don't get me wrong, i love the stuff, but my lord can it shred the roof of your mouth! i have spent the last 24 hours worrying the newly rough spots with my tongue. it appears to have healed a bit overnight, just in time for breakfast.

**

i have some strange little rituals i indulge in on my drive home from the office.

i drive the same route, every day, regardless of traffic. i light my after work cigarette, if i feel the need for one, at the same stoplight. once i exit the freeway and go round the roundabout, i unhook the bulk of my keys from the car key and hang them on my thumb in anticipation of checking the mail.

once at the mailbox, i have the same two thoughts every day, and on occasion i will even state them aloud:

maybe there'll be a check for a million dollars today! maybe there'll be a postcard or a letter from john flaherty today!

amazingly, when there is no check or no postcard, i am not the least bit upset. and on those very rare days, years apart, when there is a postcard or letter from john, well, then i am the happiest girl on the planet, feeling as though i have just won the lottery, or opened the envelope containing that check. but, quite honestly, that is not the point i am trying to make here. the point is, i am happy enough with the ritual and the faint flicker of hope i have each day before i turn the key and see what is actually hiding in the mailbox.

i am a very simple girl.

i tried to explain this whole thing to gene last night, with very limited success. it was my own fault, because i tried to extend the concept to cover other little ritual thoughts i have each day and how i am happy with the fine filament of hope they provide, however outlandish, and don't actually need the wishes to come true. i used the example of arriving home each day and thinking as i turn the key in the door, "maybe the whole house will be clean!"

bad example.

after allaying gene's fears that i was going to give him the boot because he is as halfhearted a housekeeper as myself, i tried again to explain how it is the hope, not the fulfillment that is the key. i still wish on the first star i see each night, wish when i throw pennies in fountains, wish whenever some out of the ordinary moment seems to call for it. i never want to be so cynical about the world that i can't perk up at the thought of checks in the mail and sparkling clean houses.

wishing on the morning star, claire