Sparklefraffle in my Wrist

I couldn't type you all day, because I have a hideous pain in my left wrist. I mentioned this to Marvin Gardens, who suggested that I was doing something crude in my spare time. I will not torment you with the details. Let's just say that perhaps he should look into graduating seventh grade soon.

What I like about Marvin is his sensitivity. Perhaps he could volunteer in an ER, and people could tell him their woes. Or one of those all-night phone lines where you call with medical emergencies. I'm sure he'd be popular.

Marvin and his empathetic self aside, I wonder if I have carpal tunnel or something?

I do spend a lot of time on the computer. And I have been doing a lot of intense, fast editing, as I got a new freelance job proofreading transcripts. So I have to listen to the tapes and read along. I try to quickly make corrections without stopping the tape, as I am being paid by the page. So the faster I go, the richer I get. And apparently the sorer, too.

My other excitement for today (if one can consider wrist pain and being insulted by one's own spouse "excitement") was that I got to go to WalMart, which I kind of consider an evil store. Take this city, for example. Most of the people here used to work in the textile mills. Now no one has jobs, so they are poor, so to save money they go to WalMart, which TOOK THEIR JOBS AWAY.

Ironic. It's 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife.

But WalMart is close to the assisted living place where I read to Miss Lilly, and besides, there isn't any other store in town, honestly. At any rate, we were completely out of dish cloths, and I want you to know that frugal June tried very hard to do without. I cut up kitchen towels, I cut up old t-shirts. But finally I gave in and spent the $2.98 for eight washcloths. Which -- okay, evil WalMart -- I admit was a deal. So I sold my soul to get it.

Also, finally, I think it is official that I am going to go to Michigan and buy my VW Bug back from my mother. Perhaps you wonder, "Are there no cars for sale in all of North Carolina?" and the answer is no. It is illegal to sell cars here. Everyone has to sneak into South Carolina for auto purchases.

No, no. However, Marvin looked into it, and because we have only been here two months, they want to charge us like 30% interest, as we are a flight risk. Which irritates me. A flight risk. Who are we, Bonnie and Clyde?

I know this is spending money, but living without a car is so. ding-dang. depressing. Someone here today said, "You'll feel better once we get some wheels under ya!" I love people here.

Anyway, my mother is paying for the flight, because I am 42 and my mother pays for my flights, and then we can pay her whatever we can afford per month for the car. Plus also too, I get my Sirius radio back.

Howard Stern is going to seem so clean-cut after living with Marvin.