Closing Doors

I’m not good at closing doors.

Just ask my father. He likes to watch me, prepared to pounce when a door isn’t shut tight. To him, of course it’s a symptom of my going too fast and not thinking, which he has identified as the root cause of all my problems.

It’s been true since they have been away. I have to keep the door to the basement closed, so what little heat is left on stays down in this basement to combat the cement floor and drafty flue that like to steal heat.

And twice I have come back to see the garage door open and the opener’s light blinking, stopped and retracted due to some block. It’s winter, so I need to get to the shovels, but the pile of dissapeared items is large enough to get in the way.

Running out of the house so I will embarass people less by my presence in the neighborhood, well, that means I don’t have time to secure things nicely. Tranny go, go tranny.

I had been meaning to write about this phenomenon, but the New York Times beat me to it. They review Dan Areily’s book Predictably Irrational: The Hidden Forces That Shape Our Decisions by looking at his work on how cutting off some options can focus our thinking and our efforts.

TBB understands this. She cut of her options (and some other bits) when she had genital reconstruction surgery (GRS), and says that the best part is that no one now tries to convince her she should try to make it work as a man again. She is freed by the limits now set, and that is empowering to her.

This is the deep part where I need to look at my own doors. Oy.

Next entry, please.

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