This fine writer was asking about intentions and I started running my mouth, saying I was going to come up with a list of essays I want to (want may be too strong of a word here, let’s go with could) could write.
Worse, I put a date on it. (“If you want it then you should have put a date on it, If you want it then you should have put a date on it, Wuh Uh Oh Uh Uh Oh Uh Oh Oh Uh Uh Oh….”)
So here it is, a list of 10 essay titles swimming around in my head (Wuh Uh Oh Uh Uh Oh Uh Oh Oh Uh Uh Oh):
- What to do when you’re rehabbing the house where you lived with your mom and dad and siblings during your parent’s category-five hurricane divorce and your husband finds a cassette tape hidden in the drop ceiling tiles of the basement. (You listen to it, of course.)
- How not to have sex for 14-days straight and pretend your marriage is okay. (I could write this essay more often than I want to admit.)
- The day my daughter couldn’t fit through the pet door. (This is about my all or nothing approach to health and exercise and how unrealistic images turn into a young girl’s wish for a different body.) (And about me and my daughter and the exact moment I realized that how I looked affected how she looked at herself.) (It may be a too heartbreaking to write, still, two years later.)
- How to stop talking to your mom for a year…and when to start again.
- “Should you let your boss’s dog bite you if it means you could maybe get your annual salary all in one lump?” and other thoughts you have while working for an emotionally-stunted, micro-managing, bring-my-dog-to-the-office-because-it’s-not-a-real-business-anyway CEO of a possible tax shelter.
- A step-by-step guide to your next family crisis
- What my marriage hiatus taught me about love
- 10 things you should never say at the Thanksgiving dinner table
- How to make it on four hours sleep without looking like someone injected small pockets of chicken fat under each eye during your last hour of REM. (Actually, I need someone to write that one for me in the next six hours.)
- (the story i’d write if i knew no one could ever attach it to me.)
Shit…it’s 12:07; I missed my deadline. It still counts if I started before midnight, right?