"Amazon.com recommends Limited Edition Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood Wooden Trolley Set of 3", the e-mail reads.
It is six in the morning and my body has just waken me up out of sheer habit. It's a terribly considerate thing to do, you know, despite the fact that I'm still exhausted and my back aches from forever sleeping on this couch and today I don't need to leave for work at six and can sleep till noon, if I like. However I get up. I've always had a problem telling people that their favors are of no use to me; I don't even like disappointing my inner alarm clock with the news that the wake-up was unnecessary this morning.
This problem leads to me, twice each week, eating this tasteless ham Alfredo that makes me think of earthworms and crushed hopes, just because the guy across the street seems to think it's my favorite and brings it in. It leads me to keeping a heap of hand-me-downs in my closet that will never ever touch my skin and sometimes it makes me agree to go home early from work when I'd rather have the hours, but all that's beside the point.
I get up with a nod of thanks to my inner alarm clock. I realize that I've fallen asleep again without brushing my teeth or washing my face or taking off my bra. I hate that feeling. It makes me think of one-night-stands, and sleeping in a car, neither of which I am big fans.
And of course, I check my e-mail. An addiction that easily grows into obsession when one has no phone. Unfortunately, most of the e-mails include offers from memberships I signed up for in various checkout lines around the country; Borders, Victoria's Secret, American Eagle..the list goes on. (and we're back to the obligation to receive "favors", even when they include assumed commission for these smiling and well-meaning employees. We have a theme this morning, ladies and gentlemen.)
Amazon sends me e-mails, too. I heard part of this tape series once, outlining the strategies of "Permission marketing". Supposedly Amazon.com is a regular guru at this and their recommendation e-mails are all part of the plan. Well, they work for me. I always, always read their e-mails, normally finding myself dazzled at the fact that they know I need art textbooks, dammit, how do they do that? And they've magically figured out my weakness for memoirs and Rand and....pretty much everything else that has to do with anything I've ever purchased on their site. Yes, I am a salesman's dream, I realize this.
This morning it's wooden trolley cars and everything Mr. Rogers.
After reading the e-mail I sat very still for a long time. I felt a bit like an animal who freezes for an instant after being frightened before they take off running. I thought immediately of this song by the Weepies.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4sa2HoXpsE
(sorry, it's not click-able for some reason, but do copy it. It's on my mind and worth 2:01 of your day, i think. it's a great video)
The world spins madly on
Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you'd gone
and let the world spin madly on
Everything that I said I'd do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on
I let the day go by
I always say goodbye
I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I'm standing still
Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
The night is here and the day is gone
And the world spins madly on
I thought of you and where you'd gone
And the world spins madly on.
I think that truly...truly...it is good to feel. I know it sounds trite, I know it sounds cliche, I know. But really, really there is a depth.
Right now I'm sitting here with a bowl of ultra-healthy cracked wheat cereal and a counter-productive load of brown sugar. I have old mascara under my eyes and a legit side pony tail worthy of Napoleon's Deb. I'm watching another morning waltz in and point out the need to dust my windowsill. Everything's pretty normal. Nothing unusual or glamorous or other-worldly here.
Except this depth. I don't know another world to describe it, or I'd diversify my vocabulary more. But that's what it is...this depth of retrospection, contemplation and, yes, even the sadness. It makes me feel expansive inside and moves me out and beyond myself and reminds me that I'm a part of something larger than Kyla.
Thank you for the reminder, amazon.com.
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