I don't know if you realize this, but I am an AVID fan of dooce. It's Heather Armstrong's blog, and I swear, if she lived here (again?) I would very much try to be her friend. But I think I would be standing in a long line. Maybe our daughters could hang out. Anyway, she's awesome, and I wanted to share with you a little piece of a post I stumbled upon in the depths of her archives.
Instead of spreading negativity by publishing the email address and the name of the woman who sent me that email, I’m going to publish something else, an email I got earlier today that made me cry in a good way, an email that makes me hopeful and cheerful and very happy that I am alive:
———
From: n.
Subject: the new contract
“What happens if I end up crazy?”
“How crazy?”
“How crazy is too crazy?”
“Well, I think institutionalization may be the cut off because visiting you would be so unpleasant…”
“Hmm. What about the Armstrongs?”
— pause —
“You’re right. For love, you visit. You visit hell, if you have to. And if they throw you out of hell, you wait on hell’s lawn, indefinitely. That’s how I’d do it if you got crazy.”
“Promise?”
“Absolutely. We will call this ‘The Armstrong Clause’, and it will be a contract that can only be nullified in the event of a sockless baby…”
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