A Morality Tale
This is me with my good friend kd:
Kd lives with my designated driver, but she likes to come over to my house to keep me company sometimes.
I'm mostly a pretty decent person. I floss, I vote, I'm sound on dogs. And I never ever forget to blame the patriarchy.
But I'm also stubborn. I'm grimly determined, excessively autonomous, rabidly independent. Sometimes when people try to help me I bare my teeth and hiss. I'm not very good at letting people help. But cancer is doing its damnedest to try to change that.
This is my home office:
My friend Lisa who's into feng shui says my office is in the "helpful people" area of my house. She says the fact that I have a dead woman falling off of an exercycle in the midst of festively deranged chaos just might indicate that maybe I'm not doing my very best to attract helpful people into my life. Snnrrt.
Nevertheless, this is a package that appeared on my front porch:
It's from my very helpful friend Julie who lives in Brooklyn. But only because she has a hotshot job in Manhattan; if it weren't such an inconvenient commute, she would live here, in my upstairs rooms. I'm afraid Julie has sent me a rather large gift.
This is my extremely helpful designated driver:
He drives me to chemo, he drives me home, he drives me mad with desire. He's opening this package for me because he believes I'm weak and anemic and severely neutropenic and could die from a paper cut any minute now. He's pretending that he's not intimidated by my bared fangs.
What could be in the box? Kd watches but doesn't try to help. Good dog. She respects my fangs.
Oh my stars, it's....it's a super efficient electric HEATER!
It looks like something the Jetsons would own. For the first time this winter, my helpful people area will be warm! Yay Julie!
Moral of the story: It's good to have helpful friends you can lean on when the going gets rough. Thank you.