I’m tormenting my children. We’re having a French drain system put into our basement, which means all of our subterranean belongings need to be brought up to daylight and stored in a pod. That’s right a pod. Not just any pod. A pod the size of Saturn. For some reason, my husband deemed it necessary to store a room’s worth of belongings in a pod that looks like one of those portable buildings all South Florida schools had when I was a kid–portables that fit 30 kids, a teacher, desks, and wall posters that reminded us of hurricane procedures.
So what do you do when you have a freakin’ fifty foot pod in your driveway? Why you talk about pod people. Of course. Â I explained it the best I could: “These bodies! They’re people… but they’re not! You go to sleep at night. And you wake up a pod person! You look like you. But you’re not you. You’re a pod person. ” Could you resist? I don’t think so. Do I need to tell you it’s biting me in the ass because it just means I now have two little people in my bed at night? And I’m thoroughly creeped out because I can’t stop thinking about pod people.
Adam (who is one of Boston’s top 15 innovators, thank you very much) is currently on the left coast and the pod is out there mocking me and I should really, really go to sleep because I’m was so tired today, but now I’m completely wound up because the Dolphins/Patriots game is on and you know I’m not going to sleep till the fat linebacker scores.
Speaking of football, I do  love that I’ve taught the girl to trash talk her kindergarten teacher’s assistant. I got a report that Pie gleefully went up to her and taunted, “The Patriots are GOING DOWN!” The boy may have gone to the dark side (but only when I’m around) but the girl is a loyal Dolfan.
Ugh, I get so worked up over these stupid games. This is why I had to give up football. Because it makes me tense. I don’t like being tense. The only thing worse than being tense is having my father say, “Why don’t you be past tense?” which just takes my tenseness to the next level. Maybe it makes me present perfect tense. Because I have perfected tense.
Okay, you all don’t know this, but it’s been about a half hour since I was writing, a half hour in which I had to pour myself a big f’ing glass of wine because my beloved Dolphins are F’ING UP BIG TIME! Do you know what it’s like being in enemy territory all the time? They need to freakin’ win for me. They owe me.
This game is painful. I should just go to sleep. Because it’s painless you know. I just need to give in to the pretty space flowers.
“Less than a month ago, Santa Mira was like any other town. People with nothing but problems. Then, out of the sky came a solution. Seeds drifting through space for years took root in a farmer’s field. From the seeds came pods which had the power to reproduce themselves in the exact likeness of any form of life…Your new bodies are growing in there. They’re taking you over cell for cell, atom for atom. There is no pain. Suddenly, while you’re asleep, they’ll absorb your minds, your memories and you’re reborn into an untroubled world…Tomorrow you’ll be one of us…There’s no need for love…Love. Desire. Ambition. Faith. Without them, life is so simple, believe me.”
One of us… one of us… one of us.
Must get more wine. Don’t talk to me tomorrow. It won’t be pretty.
