mixed metaphor

 

I have issues.  For those of you who read this regularly, I am sure this statement has not shocked you.  However, I am going to openly discuss one right now.  (This should be good and slightly incoherent.)

Lately, I have gotten worked up over the school board in my town.  At first I was worked up by what they were doing and now I am worked up by how they are doing it.  Really, I just can’t stand our superintendent.  I now believe he has ulterior motives for everything.  In fact, I am thinking of finding out if I can legally change his name to Bruce Malfoy.  At the next meeting I attend with him there, I may ask to have him roll up his sleeves to see if he has the Dark Mark.

I think that in my older age, I am becoming persnickety.  Or picky.  Or publicly annoyed.  Or annoyed with the public.  I used to be able to say that it took a lot for someone to ruffle my feathers.  Lately, so many people have ruffled my feathers that my plumage is suffering.  I would make a list of all of the people and why I feel this way, but what if I suddenly change my mind?  And I know that I am often seen as undeserving to have the same hair color as the Weasleys.  For instance, I know that there is no love lost among anyone in the Home Owners Association of our summer home.  I actually feel kind of bad for that.  I worry I am not being very Christ like when it comes to some of my neighbors.  At the same time, if there is an HOA for mansions in heaven, I DO NOT want them as president.  (If you think there are too many rules to get to heaven, just wait until you get there and they have written the HOA guidelines and rules…  Hell will sound better and better)

See?  Right there I am not letting things slide off my back.  I am letting it get under my fingernails as I dig and dig and dig.  The problem this is all causing, besides the fact that my kids are driving me nuts a little quicker than normal, is that it is making it difficult for me to write with the irony that I so enjoy.  I am trying very hard to write a short story that takes place in a bar, but whenever I think of certain people, it makes me want to literally GO to a bar.  I am trying to organize my writing and sell it to some unbelievably lucky person who will be known as the agent to one of the greatest voices of this century, but I end up organizing rallies and protests.  (Sometimes, when I feel really out of control, I leave sand toys at the beach by our condo.  A big no-no.  But only the cheap ones because I think someone is throwing them away.)

So what shall I do?  Rhett, Rhett, whatever shall I do?  Wherever shall I go?  Is Tara part of a Homeowners Association?  And who is the superintendent there?  And are any of the neighbors just really annoying?  (You can really tell this has thrown me for a loop because I started with a nice Harry Potter metaphor and then ended up with Gone with the Wind.  I NEVER switch like that.  Luckily, the bar is right next-door.)

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2 responses to “mixed metaphor

  1. We called our kids' elementary school principal "Principal Umbridge" because of her many rules, rules, rules. But just behind her back and once accidentally to her co-worker after she was moved to administration. Wish I'd thought to ask her if she had a dark mark! (Hope it works out!)

  2. Loved the dark mark. I have a friend who actually reminds me of Delores Umbridge she is overly happy and perfect and in her 60's and loves pink. Yes. HOA I think I could spend hours thinking of different more appropriate words for the acronym. Drives me crazy.

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