bits and pieces of stuff

mean a lot of things to people.

So, I’m getting tired of a few things….

I’m tired of people being so materialistic. Especially about this divorce beeswax. It’s uncalled for. In addition to be absurd. Why is the big worry the wedding gifts and who got ‘em? Why, oh, why?

For the record, anything of value is mine, really. At least, as far as the gifts are concerned. I got the kitchenaid mixer, the china, the calphalon, the dishes and pretty much all of the cookware. The candlesticks and pitchers and all too. And where is it right now? Costing me $72 per month to keep in storage. There’s other stuff in there too, of course. But, I mean, really…why? I’m glad I have it and some day I’ll be glad to use it. But that’s not the heart of the issue here. How I am is so so so much more important than things. They happen to be very nice things, but at the end of the day, it all boils down to some carbon molecules and other elements and plant matter. Nothing is irreplaceable.

It’s like people who worried about how everything got divvied up. How he got practically everything in the house. But I don’t care. I love it that when I said “he definitely got the better end of the stick” Audrey said, “Carrie, no he didn’t. You did. You’re free of him.” And she’s so right.

And even better was when someone pointed out that if we were arguing over money, well it was just that—money. And that I’d make more, and it would all be fine. And they were right too.

But the comment about the wedding gifts really got to me.

And I’m also tired of people telling me how CK has such a ring to it. Or how good it sounded. How happy, how chipper, how fun. Because quite honestly I think that deep down inside CK wasn’t happy or chipper or fun. Or at least when she was it was the CR inside of her coming through. CK was gloomy and lonely and disappointed. It’s sad but true. And every time that people tell me how they liked K better as my last name it makes me want to yell and scream. Or correct them. Or point out the lunacy of what they’re saying.

And really, really, it makes cry inside. Just a little.