marking the card

04-18-00

Saw my therapist today. We're doing the cognitive therapy thing, and my assignment for two weeks is to carry around an index card and mark on it whenever I have a negative thought. Boy, oh boy. Before I left the office, she asked me if I'd need more cards.

She's trying to destroy The Cynic!

Betsy puts yet another mark on her index card.

Seriously, I'm going to have more marks on my card from writing this journal than I will sitting in traffic. I started marking at 11 this morning and I'm up to 29. That's only, like, two per hour, why is that so bad? I guess I haven't gone to work yet.

John: 2.00 is barely fifteen percent, dude.

Betsy: Yeah, great pay to stand around and talk to your friends all night.

John: Leave him 2.50.

Betsy: Dude, I had to put three marks on my card because of that annoying slow fucker, now there's no time to go to the pub, dammit. Dammit, now I feel guilty.

John: ....

Betsy: (marks on her index card.)

John: You do the kitchen and I'll do the living room and dining room.

Betsy: Actually, I was thinking I'd do the living room. You always do the living room.

John: When's the last time you washed a dish?

Betsy: (marks on the index card.)

John: Oh, so now you're using the card against me?

Betsy: (marks again.)

Fleck: Look! Mom's brushing the floor with the big chewy broom! Look at that pile of dust!

Betsy: Fleck, get out of the dust.

Fleck: Hey, there's some food in there! Wait!

Betsy: Agh! Get out, Fleck!

Fleck: (chomp chomp chomp.)

Betsy: Oh, goddamn it.

Fleck: This dustpile is sorta comfy, I think I'll...snore....

Betsy: (marks the card.)

Okay, so maybe this is fun. I'm liking this card thing. I wonder if it's better than Zoloft? I hope I don't have to give up my negative thoughts. They define me. Can't have a Cynic without a well-placed negative thought here and there.