Our Enemy the State (in Bile Green and Size 9 Font)

The labored sounds of a printer are to the East of me. That would be, “Our Enemy, the State” sludging itself out, page by page. The text is in a lovely green color, since the black ink cartridge ran out yesterday (likely having something to do with multiple copies of Woody and Buzz being printed in order to placate yon sleeping toddler) requiring me to think on my feet. As you can tell, I’m one of the sharper pencils in the box. I would totally have had the idea to utilize my color cartridge, even if my friend hadn’t mentioned it this afternoon while I was complaining about a lack of ink. Totally.

From the look of these pages, the color I chose is on the lighter scale of green. I dropped the font size too, just to save paper. I’d like to claim it’s for environmental reasons, but it’s actually just because I’m cheap. Hm. Maybe I should have picked the color blue. Now I’m probably going to painfully squint my way through the whole thing, even with my 20/20 eyeballs.

Speaking of which, they are. I’ve wanted my eyes to go bad ever since I was a kid because I think glasses are cool. My husband wears glasses for example. See? HOT. I swear glasses would make me smarter, or at least look cooler, which would probably be better than smarter anyway. But long hours of reading in the near-dark of my hot-pink-carpeted bedroom (the shade of the carpet alone should have blinded me) must have resulted in super bionic eyesight. On the positive side, not wearing glasses means there is one less thing I have to remember while getting myself out the door.

I’m printing this book so that I’ll have half-a-clue about the subject matter being discussed here, at Round Table Dialogue, a blog recently started by a local group I’m a part of. I’d like to at least appear being informed, even if I’m not. Going to my first meeting with them was like one of those really delicious internet conversations that occur sometimes, only this one was with real live faces all in the same room. It is hard to believe such wonders even exist. Not to mention that on the potluck table, somebody made really good smoked salmon tortilla rolls. Like I said, I kept wanting to pinch myself.