1) My watch stopped working on Wednesday.  I could have taken it somewhere to have the battery replaced, but I was disinclined to do so, having paid ten dollars for the watch five years ago.  It would have cost me that much, I’m sure, to replace the battery.  Therefore, I decided to purchase another ten-dollar watch.  I like to buy my ten-dollar watches at the drugstore.  I needed dental floss anyway, so the whole errand made sense. 

Unfortunately, a ten-dollar watch is not as well-made these days as it was five years ago.  I think I would have to pay twenty dollars to get the equivalent of my old ten-dollar watch.  As anyone who has spent any time around me has doubtless observed on numerous occasions, I can’t sit still.  One of the things I tend to do is absentmindedly take off my watch and fiddle with the strap.  The first time I did this with my new ten-dollar watch, at my therapist’s office (where I really can’t sit without some compensatory expression of nervous tension) the strap broke. 

I don’t know whether the solution is to buy a more expensive watch, or to wear something else I can fiddle with instead.  I also don’t know how to reconcile my general fussiness with the fact that I am willing to wear a ten-dollar watch. 

2) Yesterday I had occasion to pick up and read Shel Silverstein’s book The Giving Tree, which was touted on its dust jacket as a “wise exploration of acceptance, and understanding people’s varying capacity to love.”  If I may say so — what a load of unmitigated crap.  The book is a handbook for codependency if I’ve ever seen one.  Anyone who reads this book to a child should be shot on sight.  The message of the book is that it’s perfectly OK to take advantage of someone as long and as far as  you can,as long as the person you’re taking from will let you do that; and/or that giving until you die, without dignity, without expectation even of decent behavior in return, will make you happy. 

And on another note — who took the author’s photo on the back?  He looks like he’s been in jail for most of his life … a swarthy, broken-toothed convict.  Surely someone could have taken a better picture than that.  He looks as though he is possessed by some evil force, which is, frankly, how I felt about him after reading the book.

3) Yesterday I had a piece of peach pie.  It was a very good pie; a lot of people’s peach pie is really tasteless, but this was delicious.  The bakery had left the skin on the peaches, which added, perhaps, to the flavor, but certainly gave it a nice texture.  Maybe that’s how cats feel about mice.  They’re juicy and tangy inside, but they have that nice soft chewy skin for texture.  After I had this thought, I felt queasy.