PERSPECTIVES
The Inoculant
by Lori Reid
New Year, New Excuses Another year has come. My time management skills being as they are, I haven’t made any resolutions. At this point my resolution is to make resolutions, and that’s not looking feasible at this point so... Let’s be honest here—I have Christmas cards that still need to be sent. It’s not because I don’t want to be a normal person, with ridiculous aspirations and the ability to prioritize in a way that makes sense to others. It’s just not part of my skill set. Ask me to write a manifesto or ace a standardized test, I could do it in record time, but ask me to remember toilet paper and pay the water bill, and you will be waiting with a dirty ass and no water to wash it off with. It’s not that I don’t care about other people’s asses, or schedules. It’s just I cannot decide what is more important in the moment: toilet paper, the cat video, the screaming kid or painting a picture. It’s called ADD, and I’m sorry, if I could change it I would. It’s not an excuse, it’s just who I am. You may have to remind me to eat or sleep, but I can recall with a freaky amount of accuracy information I’ve read or heard. It’s complicated. It’s very hard to explain this, and even harder to explain to those I’ve left with dirty asses. I am working on it and I’m sorry. Society dictates that we apologize for inconveniencing others, and often times the apology is not enough we also have to come up with a reason for our missed deadline or late party arrival. This is awkward for someone in my situation because the truth is so ridiculous that it seems like an excuse. Let me explain: I will tell you this with absolute certainty, I am late eight out of ten times
to any given function or responsibility because I have lost my keys. I cannot tell people this all the time, mostly because they already want to kill me and they are asking—no begging—me to come up with something better than “I lost my keys.” In reality, there is no one on earth more pissed at me for losing my keys than me. So I will say something neutral like: “my car wouldn’t start” and at least one of us can feel better. I don’t want to do that anymore. I just want to say, “I’m late, I’m sorry,” and move on with my life. I don’t enjoy coming up with excuses. The truth is, one person can in fact lose their keys multiple times a week, a day and an hour. I am living proof. If any of my children would have been two inches long and fit into my pocket, I would have misplaced them as well. Which brings me to other two out of ten times I am late: I have three teenage daughters and a six-year-old son. Managing the responsibilities that come along with these amazing creatures takes every bit of the responsible time management department in my brain. Also, three teenage girls. I should be able to say those three words and nothing else to any person looking expectantly at me waiting for my apology and subsequent excuse for anything anytime for the rest of eternity. I’m not going to sugar coat that shit anymore. The next time all three of them are simultaneously on their monthly exorcism I am going to text my boss the truth. It will read like this: ME: I am going to be late this morning. It’s a code TMS! (teenage menstruation situation) It’s Bagdad in my living room,
shots are firing, one of the insurgents borrowed the others pants with out asking. I’m going to wait until the bodies stop moving before I leave my safe room. Don’t worry – I knew war was eminent last night and rescued the boy, it seems as though he is unscathed by the carnage as he slept comfortably with his foot lodged in my ribcage and elbow resting on my wind pipe. Send back up if you don’t hear from me by 9 a.m. The next time that I am late for a social engagement; my text will read as follows. ME: Going to be a bit late. The orca in the mirror snidely laughed at me, and then told me that my outfit of choice was a bad idea. I have now changed clothes 37 times and lost my keys. See you some time in the next 24 hours. There is the truth, and then there is what people want to hear. It’s not the same thing. We all learn this when it becomes necessary to become gainfully employed, married or any other unholy union we decide to enter. I suppose this is the part of the column where I resolve to become better at keeping track of my keys or peacefully resolving teenage warfare. But the truth is, I’d rather resolve to take up organized religion and lose 50 pounds. At least those options are obtainable. Take off those judging pants unless you have successfully taken down a coven of teenage girls on a full moon with no car keys in sight. Happy New Year Sandpoint! Love me, late or never, Scarlette Quille
‘The Inoculant’ comic sponsored by: The
law firm of Elsaesser Jarzabek Anderson Elliott Macdonald.
Scott’s Behavior Erratic... Dear Editor, As Ben delivered the Reader Thursday at Tango, a tagline on the bottom of the front page caught everyone’s eye. It stated, “Rep. Scott under fire for claiming female lawmakers only advance via sexual favors.” I was shocked and saddened to see and then read the article on page 9. I did not vote for Heather and I did support Kate McAlister so I want to be clear on this before I continue. That being said, I resolved that in 2017 I would choose and use my words carefully in order to bring us together as neighbors and as residents of Bonner County. I am in hope that the people who are close to Heather, her loved ones, friends, neighbors will reach out to her and help her. Several negative words were used to describe her recent be-
havior. Among these words were paranoid, aggressive, erratic, and persecution. The opposite of paranoid is balanced. The opposite of aggressive is amenable. The opposite of erratic is dependable. The opposite of persecution is helpful. Think of what she could do for all of Bonner County and her constituents if she were balanced, amenable, dependable, and helpful. I am glad to see the leaders in Boise intervened on her behalf and removed her from some of her duties. It was time for an intervention. Unfortunately I believe, as legislators, they were limited in making a difference in Heather’s life. I hope she seeks help or her loved ones insist on it. Mental illness is often overlooked as we are witness to on a daily basis in the headlines of the news. Marlene Petersen Sandpoint January 19, 2017 /
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