The World's Most Sappy Metaphor

This is my new screensaver on my computer. You like? It’s Clementine the hat, on Serenity Bay, on Disney’s private island, which is one of the stops we made on the 3 Day Cruise over this past weekend.

Yes, it was a Disney cruise. You Cruise Purists who sniff your nose at a Disney cruise can suck it. We were in a stateroom with a balcony on a three-day cruise for $99, and you CAN’T do better than that anywhere in the world.

I was a total dork and took pictures of everything, the big puffy Orlando clouds, the few times it rained (which I totally loved), even the food, which perplexed sister Agatha. I can’t help it. I don’t know when I’ll be on a cruise next, and I have figured out that I LOVE cruising. Actually, I think I dig the experience of not having to pay for anything in the restaurants. If I could find an all-inclusive resort on a Mexico beach somewhere, I’m sure that would work too.

And even though I was in much less stressful circumstances than the first cruise earlier this year., I still didn’t have any breakthrough realizations about my life. Certainly, there was plenty of space to. That big expanse of water that Clementine the hat is staring at? I went out in there, almost out to that pink buoy thing you see. And I didn’t think a single thought other than this is nice. And a couple of thank You God, thank You.

I think there’s something about gazing at natural beauty that just makes my mind go blank. And there’s something very useful about it, because God knows at every other point in my life, there’s a chorus o’ crazies shouting in triplicate inside my brain. So to not think about anything for awhile was very nice, if unexpected.

But then I got home. See, after I picked up my car, my next stop was back to my old house, to rescue the Super Roses. They were already brown and withered because my old roommates were not about to water them because they hate nature. KIDDING. I was the only one who watered anything at the house, and though I can’t do anything about the roses in the ground in the backyard, I can save the Super Roses, because they’re in pots. And My Mother The Phone Harpy, wants me to. She’s already mentioned it several thousand times in the few phone conversations we’ve had, “Are you going to bring the roses to the new place with you? Are you going to bring the roses? What about the roses? WHAT ABOUT THE ROSES, AMY!? SAVE THE ROSES! YOU’RE THEIR ONLY HOPE AMY-WAN!”

I knew I was going to have to cut the roses way back to get them into my car, and since they were brown and withered anyway, there wasn’t going to be any loss there.

But the funny thing about the Super Roses. They didn’t wanna go. They’re Super Roses, which means they’re Super Thorny, and as I clipped and clipped and clipped, they attacked my arms and hands (through gloves) and even my neck. My NECK, people! I PULLED A THORN OUT OF MY NECK! MILIMETERS FROM MY JUGULAR! All these year, I didn’t know the Super Roses were vampiric, it doesn’t make sense, they LURVE their sunshine.

But they didn’t wanna go, and did their very very best to make sure that if they HAD to go, they were gonna scratch the ever’ lovin’ shit out of me, and tear holes in the fabric roof of Ethel the car, lowering her value to about two cents now (she’s not happy with them either.)

They were little bitches about going. And I cursed at them every step of the way, because yes, they are plants and therefore alive, “You have to go! They won’t water you! Do you wanna die here!? I’m trying to help you! Why are you hurting me when I’m trying to help you! YOU HAVE TO GO BECAUSE I CAN’T HANDLE THE GUILT FROM MY MOTHER THE PHONE HARPY IF SHE FIGURES OUT I DIDN’T SAVE YOU!”

And then it hit me. My realization about my life. The one I thought I was gonna get on the boat.

Me versus the Super Roses is God versus Me. Me wrestling the Super Roses, who are fighting me every step of the way, is God wrestling me to this new place in my life.

Me assuring the Super Roses that no, no, we’re not staying here, I know it sucks, and yes, it’s going to hurt, and I’m gonna clip the dead parts off you, and you’re not gonna like it, but you gotta trust me when I say that we’re going someplace better.

That’s the same conversation that God silently had with me, as He wrestled with my anxiety and bewilderment and What, We’re Moving and How Am I Gonna Move All This Stuff, and Where Are We Going, and Why Are We Going Here and How’s It Gonna Work When I Have No Couch as He moved me to this new place. I’m trying to help you. You gotta trust me when I say that we’re going someplace better.

I would like to state that I am better than the Super Roses, because I did not stick any metaphorical thorns in God’s neck. That I know of.

I wonder who God’s Phone Harpy is. The Virgin Mary? Heh.

At any rate, the Super Roses, in all their bare and spindly thorny glory are now outside my front door. Pepe and Pembleton kinda stared at them, and I know they’re thinking something along the lines of, “You’re sure they’re roses?”

But I drowned them in plant food, and they’re getting regularly watered, and if they don’t showing some progress in a few weeks, I have no compunction at all in dumping them, for all the grief they gave me.

Hopefully, God is more merciful.

Oh, and I got my couch yesterday. Isn’t it pretty? It’s got STORAGE!

Oh, and per Agatha’s request, here’s Mr. Agatha and Bug, in half of his Halloween costume. He’s going as Gene Simmons from Kiss. BWAH!