Texting Hollie about the Christmas crazy I am gifting her girls with al to make their wishes come true…and perhaps drive their parents crazy…I notice that my Pitiful Pearl is missing. I just might have to skip a post-run shower to tear apart The Big Top to find that poor, pitiful 50 year old doll.
Pitiful Who, you wonder?
True story: when I was a little girl, my mom took me to a fancy doll shop for my birthday telling me that I could have ANY doll there. I chose this doll. She used to have glasses. My mom asked me why would I want such an ugly doll. I answered back because she looks like me.
Ummmm. Mom, that makes me feel like she’s possessed. Like Annabelle.
She is not! But I can’t find her….anywhere!
Where was she? On the bookshelf? By the pool table?
My guess is she’s in the garage next to a can of gasoline with a matchbook in her hand.
This is my darling, first-born child, in whom I am very much pleased…
You’re mean! She might be ugly but she is good. I’m the only one who’s ever loved her.
Mom, I haven’t been to your house in so long and yet I still feel like because she is missing I’m somehow responsible. I feel like I am re-living all of my childhood trauma.
Here is where I omit the part that I am quietly freaking out because I KNOW I must have moved the doll, probably putting her away somewhere safe from perhaps little grandchildren who want to play with a 50 year old doll who just can’t take that kind of play and yet, I CAN’T REMEMBER WHERE OR WHEN which means, DEAR GOD, IS THIS HOW MY DOWNWARD SPIRAL INTO DEMENTIA BEGINS???!!! Oh and, OMG, THE CHILD MOCKING ME AND PITIFUL PEARL WILL BE THE ONE WHO TAKES CARE OF ME.THIS IS NOT GOOD! NOT GOOD AT ALL!!!
In the closet under the stairs. Perhaps I put her there in order to avoid unwanted attention…from my former neighbors.
CREEEEPY! I bet she put herself there. She just wants you to BELIEVE that you put her there.
(Twilight Zone music plays)
You know, I could still get that Unicorn Furby…