Blinding Me With Science

I am not the type of person who buys soundtracks to things. At least not since that sorry purchase of Waiting to Exhale in sixth grade. However, my current lack of television access has left me lonesome for my favorite characters. I believe you know those who I am referring to. Those crazy kids who wear scrubs and have illicit relations in the imaginary haven of Seattle Grace Hospital? George, Meredith, Christina and Izzy? Yes, I’m talking about Grey’s Anatomy. Today I threw down ten bucks for the first season soundtrack. My afternoon has been filled with pleasant images of my favorite souls bouncing about in surgical masks, playing out every drama and joy. I feel like I’m there.

Moving on.

Right now I am sitting at D’s computer feeling quite grown up. I’ve spent the day updating my resume in hopes that my job search will not go without reward (or health benefits). Meanwhile, D is out being a scientist. That is to say, he’s at work replicating organisms or building bombs. I’m never sure which. While on some level I’d like to understand exactly what D does for hours on end in the lab, part of me enjoys the fact that his job is nothing but pure generic work in my mind. There are no lengthy discussions of chemicals or procedures upon his return home. No muss, no fuss, just a lot of nothing-fights about clutter and the proper way to store butter (in the refrigerator, of course). Now that’s what I call the perfect relationship.

I believe that this ignorant bliss is akin to how I felt about my teachers in grade school, picturing them without families or hobbies, simply waiting in an empty classroom until it was time to teach again. Blame it on my only-child status, but how could I exist if the world was not perfectly tailored to my tastes. Answer? I simply could not.