Please explain to me how, in the past two days, I've encountered THREE books about a woman who has an accident thingy and suffers amnesia. THREE. In TWO DAYS.
First, I listened to Sophie Kinsella's book, which was . . . meh. I should have quit reading her after the first Shopoholic book, but I keep going back, like a sucker. Or meth head.
THEN, as soon as I finished that book, later that same day, I hit the gym with my work out book, which was about . . . a woman who suffers from amnesia. This one, whose title I can't remember [is it catching, all this amnesia?], is a mystery-ish one, full of intrigue, but evidently not enough for me to keep reading. Thanks to whoever recommended it, but it's too much brain trauma at once.
And so many similarities! Both are women who have amnesia in London and are married and don't feel like they know their husbands. Sure, one skitters off into chick lit world, and the other delves into the infernal workings of the human mind, but it's too much of the similarity.
Followed by the next day, where I'm on some writer's website who is touting her latest book about . . . a woman who is in an accident and suffers amnesia!
Are amnesiacs the new vampires? Am I missing something here?
My oven, which is about 2 months out of warranty, decides that all its parts are going to fall apart at once. Yeah. FUCK YOU, oven that is only just over a year old. I CANNOT AFFORD TO OWN CRAP STUFF!
And then? Trying to deal with Maytag? Useless. Absolutely useless.
Also, dwelling on misery makes me crazy, plus I ate an egg salad sandwich for lunch yesterday, which was a horrible idea, and somehow makes the misery worse.
I tried to do one of those POSITIVE THINKING type things, like a vision board or life list, and then realized that nothing will ever come of it. My life is a awful. I will never go to Paris, never be a novelist, never go dancing again. None of it.
How do I reconcile myself to that? How do I just say, "You know what? You're done. This is it. Your life will not get any better. Suck it." and not wallow?
Remember when I was thrilled that I didn't go crazy after reading the book about psychopaths?
Shouldn't have opened my big fucking mouth.