It’s A Dirty Job… 


The inner workings of my brain are phenomenal at times.

The timing of the results? 
Often useless, late and cruel, as though it is at odds with me over some issue I have yet to fathom.

It’s usually an insertion, happening in the few moments each day that I actually get unfettered time to myself, where my mind is free to think about whatever it wants to. 

Perhaps I’ve set it upon a problem, and it has the solution but I don’t ask for it. My mind puts it into a folder, awaiting my request. When it becomes impatient, and I am at my most vulnerable and alone, it forces the answer upon me. I never know which it will choose, but it is always a revelation of some magnitude.

How much easier everything would be, were I allowed this time to search and retrieve at will in vast quantities. Alas, this is not the case. Today, this morning, this is what my mind served up.

Early in my already tumultuous relationship with herself, one month in, in fact, she called me by her ex-husband’s name at least twice. It seemed like the sort of thing that, had it happened in reverse, would have been the worst thing in the world. She laughed about it afterwards, both times. Did I complain and object? Of course, immediately and loudly, adamantly. Herself insisted it was an accident, a slip, nothing more. Nothing to be angry about.

This morning, my mind delivered the file on this issue, twenty one years hence. The file had this information: 

Herself had been divorced for at least four years before you. She had had several different interests in the interim, from hookups to dating to boyfriends to fiancé, the man before you. The man just one month before you, four months before the “slips”. If she was going to slip up on a name, it should have been with him, the last. Only logical. Right? Therefore, the conclusion is obvious.


Herself called you by her ex-husband’s name on purpose. 


Deliberately and intentionally. Just to be cruel. Just to test you. Just to see how much you were willing to tolerate. You passed her vile test, by failing your own. Next time you make a plan, next time you really want something to happen, do not alter your path for any reason.

More meditation and more unguarded moments are definitely needed, to shrink that time between request and delivery. Timeliness is very important. Timing is very important. I need everything my brain has been working on, and I need it yesterday. Stop all the distractions. My mind’s hardboiled private investigator has a dirty job, but I’m paying him well, so…

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11 thoughts on “It’s A Dirty Job… ”

  1. You should really read “The Other Two,” a short story I recently read by Edith Wharton. Your persona here reminds me of Waythorn, the protagonist, and how he begins to view his new wife (who has had two husbands before him). There is an instance when she pours his coffee, Waythorn feels exactly as it seems you must have when ‘herself’ called you by the wrong name. Definitely check it out if you have time and let me know what you think.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I found the story online. Very interesting that a story over a hundred years old doesn’t seem dated at all.

      I agree with your assessment. My feeling was likely the same at the time, for different reasons. But the intent was different for Herself. She had malicious intent. Mrs. Waythorn poured the cognac absentmindedly, giving herself away.

      The story gave me a feeling of discomfort as I read it. While one cannot act as though there was no past prior to meeting someone and falling in love, one does tend to expect that past to stay past. When it comes to children, one tends to expect parental meetings to be cordial and brief. Certainly not lengthy and concealed.

      I think I am not having the reaction Edith Wharton intended, perhaps. I wanted to share my initial response with you before the many analyses of this story influenced my judgment.

      Liked by 1 person

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