Well, by now, you’re probably wondering what Princess Pissant has to say for herself? What has been the mysterious cause for seven long months of silence and dormancy?
Did she, perhaps, get evicted from the local Starbucks that serves as her Office and hub of activity for . . . sponge-bathing in the sink? Or maybe pilfering one-too-many packets of Sweet-n-Low? Or was she fighting a brave battle with cancer, or some other incurable disease? Did her blog “PrincessPissant-AnotherDayAtTheOffice” come to the attention of Hollywood, resulting in an epic bidding war for the movie rights; and is she now in intense negotiations with Reese Witherspoon? Or did she maybe follow the advice of . . . well, no one really . . . and finally go into politics?
The short answer to all of the above is no.
The long answer is nooooooooo.
Princess Pissant – who by now you may have guessed is the author of this communiqué – took what we commonly refer to in the world of academia – yes, PP actually did go to college, and no, there’s nothing wrong with hanging up one’s framed, magna cum laude thank you very much, diploma in the local Starbucks – a sabbatical.
Yup, that’s right. I took a sabbatical. Sabbatical – from the Latin sabbaticus, Greek sabbatikos, and Hebrew Shabbat – is, quite literally, “a rest from work, or hiatus, often lasting from two months to a year.” As you can see, I’ve cut my sabbatical short by several months because PP is one of those rare and industrious persons who simply is not happy if she’s not working. In recent times, sabbatical has come to mean “an extended absence from one’s career for the purpose of achieving something.”
And indeed, I did achieve quite a lot during my sabbatical.
Here’s what I achieved: I kept the kids – Kid Number 2 (KN2) and His Older Brother (HOB) – alive over the summer; I saved my marriage to My Husband the Photographer (MHTP) from . . . well, nothing really, but suffice it to say, we are still married; I walked the dog – henceforth, The Worthless Hound Dog, TWHD – 420 (!!!!) times; somehow, in spite of walking TWHD 420 (!!!!) times, I also managed to gain, and then lose, and then re-gain a shitload of weight; I tried on all of the clothes in my closet, and when none of those fit, I tried on all of the clothes in MHTP’s closet; I read a book; I read several days worth of Facebook; I laughed; I cried; I yelled . . . Actually, I yelled a lot. If you were to ask KN2 or HOB what Mommy did during her sabbatical, they would say, “She yelled.”
But here’s one thing I did NOT do during my sabbatical. In keeping with the true Biblical spirit of the concept, I did NOT work. I did not step foot here in the Office. Nope, I didn’t even do the drive-thru.
And if there’s one thing of which I’m proud, it’s that. Really sticking to my guns, and not doing a goddamn thing. For seven months. That’s something not a lot of people can say for themselves.
Anyway, here I am – back at the Office. What exactly has brought me here?
You guessed it. I’ve got another contract hanging over my head.
But instead of attending to that right now, or instead of even jump-starting my blog, guess what I spent today doing?
Okay, I’ll tell you.
I have been researching Jesus.
Don’t act so surprised. And, no, not finding Jesus. PP has never been so lucky.
Specifically, I’ve been trying to track down the source of this intriguing rumor that surfaced yesterday. To set the scene: I was dressing HOB’s plantar wart with chemicals and gauze and, over his incessant whining, sort of listening to the news in the background, when this report came on that really caught my attention. The anchorperson literally said, “And coming up next . . . Was Jesus married?!”
And while my immediate reaction was “WTF?! I definitely want to find out about that,” I didn’t get a chance to because TWHD ambled in and actually ATE HOB’s used plantar wart dressing . . . and, well, that caused a lot of hilarity, and also anxiety, and some more yelling on my part, and so I never got to see the news report and find out if Jesus was indeed married.
So, not that I have any “dog in the fight” about this topic, but that hasn’t stopped me from spending onwards of several hours now trolling the Internet here at the Office for news of Jesus Christ’s marital status.
Turns out, some lady historian from the Harvard Divinity School has been busy (while I was on sabbatical) studying and translating this small rectangular papyrus – which, BTW, is neither a fruit nor an animal, I already checked that out, but like a little ancient scrap of paper – and she (the lady historian) has determined that in some eight lines of ancient Coptic script, Jesus is said to have mentioned a wife!
Now I am no expert on J.C., or anything related to Christianity, or any other religion really . . . except for maybe the Biblical origins of the word sabbatical. But still I feel safe in saying this has got to be BIG news, right?
And like if Jesus had a wife, who was she? Was she smart? Was she funny? Was she Stepford-ish? Was Mrs. Christ, perchance, hot? Maybe she was an early Christian cougar.
And what must it have been like to be that dude’s wife? MHTP and I have our issues, for sure, the foremost of which is that everybody seems to think he’s the greatest guy in the world and that a shrew like PP should count her lucky stars and BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH. But suddenly I’m thinking I probably have it a lot better than Jesus’s wife.
Also – and I know I’m speaking from ignorance here – but I can’t imagine that Jesus was much of a “provider”; what with all the proselytizing and knocking over tables and what seems to have been an endless series of guys’ nights out with the disciples.
And that brings me to the point of today’s blog: for whatever reason, Princess Pissant is feeling particularly blessed at the moment. Yes, nothing’s ever perfect, but I survived my sabbatical (!), and so did the kids (!!), and MHTP (!!!), and TWHD (!!!!), and now I’m back to work, and for the moment at least, I am looking at the cup – not my cup, mind you, because I’m still too cheap to buy a beverage here at the Office – but the cup of the guy seated (somewhat uncomfortably close) to Princess Pissant – as unobjectionably half-FULL.