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Friday, October 17, 2008

EVERYBODY LIES


"You have to watch House" Mau told me. 

See, that's the thing. I love House, I love its humor, and I love how the medicine still manages to be the star. I love how it has avoided turning into one of those soap dramas where the story is more about the characters and their love lives than the hospital setting. I love it's dour side.

But we have not been able to watch House lately because my house is being renovated and things are topsy turvy. We sleep on the floor of an extra room, and there is furniture on top of furniture, and 14 years of gradual degeneration that has to be made up for. But when I mentioned to Ed the story of House, he very sweetly saved the show for me and we watched it together at midnight on the computer.

Now about lies, I love how House says "everybody lies" because it's true. But I must say some lie extraordinarily better than others. I am a very bad liar. I am actually trying to teach myself to lie better. I mean really lie, stare someone straight in the face a lie, and give the perfect face to support it. Not turn away, not quiver a bit in the voice. Not avoid the lie. This morning I lied rather well, though. I lied to my husband who was looking for something. I had accidentally thrown it away and I said I had never seen it. And he let it pass, because he knows I'm a bad liar.
Another thing about House, he always has this "It's never lupus" attitude that I would love to have. He always has to be right and when he's wrong, he knows how to sail through it with enough arrogance to let the moment pass. I would love that attitude. Instead, I listen to everyone, and I always bend a little here and there. One time my daughter said, "You have no mind of your own. You let others decide for you." because I changed my mind about something she wanted and sided with her father. So I told her, "You're just upset because right now it's not you controlling my mind!"

Of course, House pays the price for being as he is. He is hated, and he lives with that. He is miserable and he lives with that, too. I don't think he knows what he really wants. He doesn't show his scars of payment for the life he leads. It shows instead in his leg, his vicodin.

But we all have our legs and our vicodin, don't we? How I would like to just say "It's never lupus!" and believe it and know it and live by it.

Anyway, I gotta get back to fixing my house.

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