the blasts, the fallout, the sickness and the diar[y]hoea

An Effigy Of Oprah, Some Petrol And A Match Please

Oprah has a lot to answer for. Her brand of pseudo-religious personal growth has been the bane of my life for a while now. Along with Trisha and the irritating bloke who’s jumped on the Know-It-All-TV-Chat-Show-Host bandwagon, I can’t remember his name right now.

Enola loves them all. When she’s not getting fit with Jade (banned now due to racism) or whatever WAG or soap star is promoting themselves this week she is camped in front of the TV growing personally (in a spiritual/emotional way). With the help of the multi-million dollar experts.

Last night I came home to find the garage full of boxes. Boxes that were full of stuff from my house. Upon closer inspection I realised it was largely my stuff.

WTF I thought.

I went in the house and was greeted with an almost empty, zen-like minimalism the Buddha would have been proud of.

WTF I thought again. Enola appeared from the barrenness.

“What the fuck happened?” I said.

“I have decluttered,” she announced as if it was obvious. “Oprah said we need to declutter so we can lose weight, be happier and even have more sex.”

“What?” I was genuinely unable to take it all in. “You don’t need to lose weight, you work out for hours every day! And sex isn’t a problem.”

“Yeah, well. We had too much stuff. I was feeling lethargic and bored and I was wondering why and then I saw it on Oprah and it hit me. We were too cluttered.”

“You don’t do anything but work out and watch TV. That’s why you were fucking bored!”

“Calm down,” she said. Calm down. Are. You. Fucking. Joking?

I was unable to speak for a while. I just wandered the house. Most of my clothes, my Xbox and games, CD’s, DVD’s, books just general stuff were gone. Boxed up.

“Why is most of my stuff gone?”

“Your stuff was more cluttering. Oprah has a rule. The in and out rule.”


“If something new is coming in then something old has to go out. My things are newer than yours. Plus it was easier to get rid or your stuff. You’ll feel better when you let it go,” she smiled like this was the word of God or something, “And no-one likes your music.”


“I like it so it can all come bloody well back in again. What do you think you’re playing at?”

There followed a long argument during which Enola’s more explosive temperament reappeared. She accused me of holding her back emotionally and spiritually. A lot was said. To cut a long story short after a lot of shouting and slamming about Littleboy was pressed into emptying the boxes back into the house. He wasn’t happy about it.

All in all shitty end to a shitty day! If I hadn’t actually seen it I would never have credited it. Enola has always been a bit… impulsive but this was just… incredible. I just do not have the words to describe it.

She has to get a job. What the hell is going to happen next? She used to be ambitious and driven, full of ideas. Now, post children all that’s gone and she’s morphed into some… thing. I can’t even think of a word for it. She’s not lazy just uninterested? She’s lost herself and I have no idea what to do about it. She says she is happy but surely this is not the action of a happy woman.

Is it?

Any ideas?

Will To Live Factor 34.7% and falling!


2 Responses to “An Effigy Of Oprah, Some Petrol And A Match Please”

  1. day time tv does have a lot to answer for. Have you seen the shit that passes for decorating on 60 minute makeover?
    I can’t stand things like Trisha and whatever now – I used to watch them about ten years ago and all I can think now when I see them is ‘jesus – are you still here?’


  2. ps – if you think your wife isn’t how she used to be – have you thought of asking *her* if *she’s* happy?

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