I'm surrounded...
I can't see the TV.
Is it because my child is in front of it or because it's turned the wrong way? No. It's because the table in front of the TV is piled with medical journals. Most people call them magazines, but in medicine they have journals. Every specialty has 9 or 10 of its own special journals and then there are the general medical journals of which there are countless numbers. These have names like The American Journal of Bodily Biles (the AJBB) and The Dermatological Journal of Insect Infestations (the DJII) and the Catalogue Referencing Advanced Psoriasis (the CRAP) (now this one's for real) Dermlife, journal for the Dermatological lifestyle. Yep, we've gotten that one a few times.
Anyway, these come, unbidden mostly, in the mail. Sometimes my husband carries them home like ticks in the fur of an animal. And they pile up, and up and up. Sometimes, because it is required, he will actually read a couple of articles from some of these journals. Mostly they pile up until I heave them into a now unmovable box in the basement. I get behind though. Today they are on the coffee-table, and on the floor, and the couch and the counter and propped on bookshelves and in front of bookshelves. They are on the floor next to the bed, they are in the bathroom. They are on the computer and next to the computer.
We have a rule about the Derm journals. They are never to be left with the cover facing up. The kids get grossed out. (see previous blog, 'the yech factor'..)
The journals themselves have friends that come and join them. Medical texts. These are 50 lb. behemoths that usually come home after a drug rep dinner. (I guess the drug gets mentioned somewhere in them) These join the journals in a bacchanalian party on our floor where they wait for the unsuspecting person to come walking by and trip on them. And they don't budge. Many of them have blood on the corners from our toes. They are too heavy to put on a bookshelf, so on the floor they stay until again, I take them (one by one) and heave them into the bulging box downstairs. This act alone buys me 3 exercise points in weight watchers.
This is not to say I am blameless in the magazine department. I spent 10 minutes with a Borders cashier trying to find a good name for people who have magazine fetishes. We settled on Periodicalphile. My favorite is an English tome called World of Interiors and each issue weighs about a lb. However I have to be picky about which ones I get because in the same trip to the bookstore I might pick up several knitting and fiberarts magazines, some children's periodicals, and a couple more mags on architecture and design. These are piled daintily all over our bedroom and catalogued in a closet. Mine, however, do not have to be stored face down.
It would seem we are doomed to walk the slippery path of periodicals until the day comes when finally we feel.......honey?...where are you? have you seen the kids under these?....
Is it because my child is in front of it or because it's turned the wrong way? No. It's because the table in front of the TV is piled with medical journals. Most people call them magazines, but in medicine they have journals. Every specialty has 9 or 10 of its own special journals and then there are the general medical journals of which there are countless numbers. These have names like The American Journal of Bodily Biles (the AJBB) and The Dermatological Journal of Insect Infestations (the DJII) and the Catalogue Referencing Advanced Psoriasis (the CRAP) (now this one's for real) Dermlife, journal for the Dermatological lifestyle. Yep, we've gotten that one a few times.
Anyway, these come, unbidden mostly, in the mail. Sometimes my husband carries them home like ticks in the fur of an animal. And they pile up, and up and up. Sometimes, because it is required, he will actually read a couple of articles from some of these journals. Mostly they pile up until I heave them into a now unmovable box in the basement. I get behind though. Today they are on the coffee-table, and on the floor, and the couch and the counter and propped on bookshelves and in front of bookshelves. They are on the floor next to the bed, they are in the bathroom. They are on the computer and next to the computer.
We have a rule about the Derm journals. They are never to be left with the cover facing up. The kids get grossed out. (see previous blog, 'the yech factor'..)
The journals themselves have friends that come and join them. Medical texts. These are 50 lb. behemoths that usually come home after a drug rep dinner. (I guess the drug gets mentioned somewhere in them) These join the journals in a bacchanalian party on our floor where they wait for the unsuspecting person to come walking by and trip on them. And they don't budge. Many of them have blood on the corners from our toes. They are too heavy to put on a bookshelf, so on the floor they stay until again, I take them (one by one) and heave them into the bulging box downstairs. This act alone buys me 3 exercise points in weight watchers.
This is not to say I am blameless in the magazine department. I spent 10 minutes with a Borders cashier trying to find a good name for people who have magazine fetishes. We settled on Periodicalphile. My favorite is an English tome called World of Interiors and each issue weighs about a lb. However I have to be picky about which ones I get because in the same trip to the bookstore I might pick up several knitting and fiberarts magazines, some children's periodicals, and a couple more mags on architecture and design. These are piled daintily all over our bedroom and catalogued in a closet. Mine, however, do not have to be stored face down.
It would seem we are doomed to walk the slippery path of periodicals until the day comes when finally we feel.......honey?...where are you? have you seen the kids under these?....
posted by Emotenote @ 12:33 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home