Won't someone think of the televisions?

Oh my God, you guys are hurting my feelings with the lack of comments. What is the deal? Do I offend? Have my checks not been arriving?

This morning we were watching the NBC which means we were watching other people's houses burning. We were watching people staring blankly at the smoking piles of what use to be their lives. Some of them were needlessly brave and said things like, "Nobody got hurt and we're grateful. Nothing else matters." That's very mature of them because I, for one, would be fucking losing my MIND over all the stuff I could never get back. If it was me and Matt Lauer was asking me how i felt he'd probably wish he hadn't because I'd be all, "Holy mother of FUCKING GOD THIS SUCKS SO BAD!! WHERE ARE MY KEEN EDDIE DVDS? WHERE IS MY VENETIA BAG. WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? IS THAT SMOKING LUMP OF PLASTIC MY HARD DRIVE BECAUSE I NEED TO BLOG ABOUT THIS."

That's right, I'd admit on a national level that I would be angry about stuff like my clothes and shoes and handbags. Especially the handbags. And furniture. And bikes. And the televisions! Won't someone think of the televisions? (I'm kidding about that, but also kinda not.) Oh God, I feel sick just thinking about it. I mean, duh, the irreplaceable stuff like photographs and childhood mementos would be the biggest, most monumental loss, but what about those perfect jeans that you can't buy anymore? Good luck finding those on eBay. (Incidentally, it was the jeans-cost-replacement-theory that convinced me we needed rental insurance back before we owned a house. Thanks, Coryndon!)

I mean, how do you even start? How do you even make a list of every thing you need to live your everyday life? How do you replace books, and paperwork, and dishes and knickknacks and furniture? How do you even begin to do that? I find that when I watch the footage I'm making a mental list of important things I'd throw in the car if we were given a few minutes notice to evacuate. I suppose the ungrateful cats would be first on the list. Or my handbags. I'm kidding. Not really. Then: important papers, clothes, a couple of paintings, photographs, the hard drive...God, I don't even know. What's important? What qualifies?

(I have to pause for a second because I was interrupted by my boss who was happy to inform me that YES, I AM FINALLY GETTING THE RAISE I'VE BEEN WAITING ON FOR SIX MONTHS. SWEET BABY JEEBUS, YAY. Sorry, please return to somber and heartfelt entry.)

The other day I was sitting at a stoplight in my car and watching the world around me and was somewhat amazed at what we all do. At what that tired woman waiting at the bus stop does, at what that dude walking down the sidewalk does. Every day we get up and pull ourselves together and go through the same tedious routines of (hopefully) cleaning ourselves up and getting dressed to get ready for another day of living. We all could, I suppose, just stay in bed and let the cards fall as they may, but most of us plug on. We keep going. So I guess when you lose all your stuff, you just do what you always do - if you generally lose your mind you do that and if you are the kind of person who pulls your shit together and gets on with things you do that. It's the way things are, I suppose.