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teahouse fox i n e s s  
06:37pm 10/07/2009
 
 
wifey_mcbeaty
've developed a bit of an unnatural affection for my iGoogle Teahouse Fox. It's a bit unhealthy, really, but it really is quite soothing to plug away through a paper at all hours of the day, and click over to Teahouse Fox to zone out while he does his laundry or has a sushi picnic. Don't judge me for living vicariously through a small zen mammal.


You torture me, teahouse fox. I sit at this desk, nine-to-five, five days a week (if I’m lucky: sometimes much longer), thinking, worrying, slaving and perspiring, and all in pursuit of what? Money? Success? Respect? The ever-elusive American dream?Maybe you’ve got the right idea, teahouse fox. Living your pastoral existence. Picking oranges, doing laundry, having tea on the dock in the evenings. That’s life, right there. You don’t care about money. You don’t care about fame. You don’t even seem to need the companionship of other foxes: fireflies, geese and caterpillars seem to give you all the company you need. You taunt me with your contentment. As I am madly reviewing accounts and formatting spreadsheets, you are rowing your boat around the pond. How Thoreau-ish of you.



I’ve just returned from a horrid afternoon meeting, in which my boss demanded the impossible, ranted incoherently, and dripped sweat onto the Powerpoint slides. You meanwhile, are playing some sort of stringed instrument as you sit on the end of your dock. Some childhood memory stirs in me: my feet swinging through the cool breeze, a glass of lemonade clutched in my little hand, the first evening stars glowing in a purple sky. But most likely, I am merely remembering some Country Time ad: my childhood was spent in front of the television in the den of a suburban McMansion.



Hungover and late today. Boss read me the riot act. Teahouse fox, how do you manage it? Near as I can tell, you do not light your incense and tuck into your sleeping bag until at least 2:00 a.m., yet you are always fishing at the end of your dock long before I am awake. I suppose leading a life of simple pleasures does not necessitate much rest.



I’ve just been to lunch with Sheila from marketing. I’d always been intimidated by her attractiveness, but it turns out, she’s totally down-to-earth, and she seems kind of lonely. She had salmon, and I had a bacon cheeseburger. You’ve probably never had one of those, teahouse fox, and let me tell you, you are missing out. I see you’re doing your laundry again. What are those white things, and how do you get them so filthy that you need to wash them every afternoon? I never see you dirtying any linens. Perhaps you take in other people’s laundry to pay for the rent on your teahouse. Which you never seem to enter.



Yearly reviews today. Great news, teahouse fox! I’ve been promoted!!! I have a new office, with a window. And I got a raise, too! And best of all, I asked Sheila out to a fancy dinner to celebrate, and she said yes!!!! I see you’re taking your usual row around the lake, accompanied by that baby chick. Have fun with that.



You might be interested in this, teahouse fox: I’ve been looking at lakefront properties, just like yours! Except not like yours at all, because these are huge and comfortable, and I would never have to sleep outside the door.



Listen, teahouse fox. We need to talk. Your theme isn’t doing it for me anymore: the never-ending cycle of your simple, daily chores has begun to depress me. I’ve been waiting for you to feel some ambition, get motivated, make something new happen in your life, but frankly, I don’t think you’ve got the drive. We’re just not in the same place anymore, teahouse fox, so I’m going to go with a new theme.

In case you’re wondering, I’m going with Seasonal Scape. The frog and the ladybug chug caffeine and play at least three sports every day. Now, that’s what I call energy!
 
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