Barb arrived home yesterday evening quite late. It must have been close to midnight. At the time, I was reviewing the prints in my photo album again. (How many times do I have to marvel at what a darling little boy I was?) Immediately I sensed something was wrong. Even though I never saw Barb before she shut herself in her room, I knew a black cloud was hovering over her. When I awoke the next morning, it had not dissipated one whit. What I should have done is ignored her and simply gone about my business of preparing to leave for work. Instead I had to egg her on subconsciously. I talk to her because I hate to see her in such a mood, yet I realize my words only serve to antagonize her.
All day long I replayed our morning conversation. At one point, I contemplated a firm approach, which basically would consist of a demand to move out and interact with other people on a personal, day-to-day level. It occurred to me that living with an older brother might be emotionally and psychologically crippling for her. I considered this approach frequently last winter when Barb's roller-coaster moods were at their most uncontrollable. It's pure fantasy, though. I'd never have the courage (or stupidity) to make such a bold and heartless declaration.
When I returned home from the library, Barb had dinner (and an apology) waiting. Enchiladas. I knew it! As long as I maintain a fair and level-headed position in all matters affecting my relationships with others, I need not worry about the temporarily erratic behavior of those dear to me. Barb realizes that she acts irrationally whenever she allows the pressures in her life to overwhelm. To be able to recognize such a fault is an indication that progress is being made.
The two beers that accompanied my supper left me feeling extremely lethargic. Why not give this evening over to completely kicking back, I asked myself. Another stunning defeat for will power. I rolled a couple joints, fed the Charlie cassette into my music box, and browsed through the most fascinating book I have encountered all year: Edsels, Luckies, & Frigidaires: Advertising the American Way. The book is copiously illustrated with examples of classic advertising covering a period of one hundred years. Being in a rather stupored state of mind, I had to postpone reading any of the text. This is a book I'd love to purchase for my personal library.
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