Bitter

Well, weren't you having a day, Jennifer? Welcome to the pity train. I stepped off and you got on. Seems like someone's always riding that train. I solved my computer frustration with a $400 laptop from Best Buy and then needed a $50 printer from Walmart because, of course, my old-ish printer wouldn't work with my new computer. What was I thinking? (Just so you know, no one ever has enough money, especially not these days. These are the days of "make do." I can hear the geezers of the future, "oh yeah, I remember the winter of ought-nine when we had to use dial-up and analog TV because the country was a mess.")

I put two stories out there yesterday and plan to do more this weekend so I'll be back to standing there in mostly-rejected-land soon, I'm sure.

February 4--Kazimir Severinovich Malevich, Woman with a Rake. She felt torn to pieces, pulled in too many directions. Dinah's life looked calm on the surface and all of her friends and acquaintances thought she had everything under control, but they were wrong. Ellie knew the truth. She had found Dinah sitting on her back step with a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes last summer, methodically working her way through both. As she sipped, holding the bottle in her fist, and smoked, lighting each one from the stub of the last, Dinah talked. Talked about the emptiness of her marriage to the paragon Paul and his affairs. Talked about her daughter's abortions and her son's dyslexia. When the bottle was nearly empty and the cigarettes burned up, Dinah stood up, took the rake leaning next to her, and proceeded to destroy each little shoot in her perfectly laid out garden while Ellie watched in silence. She surveyed her work and said, "I feel better."

Jennifer, I'm glad you liked yesterday's effort. You had a hard one and did a good job. That's one of my least favorite prompts from that book. See you Thursday. Even if you're very late, I'll wait.
--Barbara