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The Postscript

Carrie Classon

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The Postscript is usually funny, often thoughtful, and never political. In a world where there is no shortage of dire news, The Postscript aims to provide a small dose of positivity. It appears in print in more than 200 newspapers nationwide and is syndicated by Andrews McMeel Universal.
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When I think of presents, I don’t think of stress. I have given my young nephew inappropriately dangerous gifts (what young man does not need a pickaxe?) And I’ve given joke presents (my friend, Andrew, at one time had an impressive collection of shower caps). I love giving presents to pets. I love hearing my mother exclaim, “What on earth…?” as sh…
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Peter sits about ten feet away (which is almost as far as a person can be from another person in this apartment). I have learned to write while he works on projects. (He is replacing the tips of his hiking poles right now. “Bang! Bang! Bang!”) He has grown accustomed to me sometimes talking to myself and sometimes talking to him and not being sure …
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I am sure that if a person wanted to, they could have a great time figuring out what ails my sister and me, but I don’t put too much stock in dreams, other than to note the emotions that come along with them. I have woken in terror over something that seems—upon waking—completely harmless. And then I have a dream where I am cheerfully disposing of …
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Once I get to the airport, there are more annoyances. People walk slowly, three abreast, oblivious to the fact that they are not moving at the prevailing speed. Everyone takes too much carry-on luggage. People talk too loudly on their cell phones. Younger people sit on the floor and spread all their possessions around them, as if they plan to take …
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Emily Anderson is a wonderful artist who paints scenes from nature in Minnesota. Unlike many northern landscape artists, her work is never dreary. Her scenes of the natural world just exude joy and a sense of discovery and—it might sound odd, but it’s true—humor. Her work makes me smile. I want to be in whatever place she has painted.…
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I know a lot of folks my own age who think they have everything figured out. They tell me how it’s all downhill from here—whether they are talking about the country or their health or literature or the quality of baked goods. Everything was better in the past, and now we’re all addicted to social media and reliant on the internet and nothing good w…
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I remembered my mother’s Swedish relatives who came to visit in the 80s. They did not think wall-to-wall carpeting was normal. They were concerned it would not be clean. They thought area rugs were the way to go. I reminded my 100% Swedish mother of this, in an attempt to make this whole tiling of the bedroom thing look like a return to my roots.…
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It all reminds me of other rooms and smaller places I have lived in the past. It reminds me of being in my childhood bedroom, where I also had a desk and a bed in close proximity. It reminds me of when, at 50, I packed everything into the back of a pickup truck and went to grad school. I lived in a converted garage with hardwood floors and had a ve…
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Now that I’m older, I am having a lot more fun getting dressed up than I ever did when I was young. I think the expectations are different. When I was younger, I had this wrongheaded idea that there was a right way to dress up. I thought I would either hit the mark or miss. Now that I’m older, I realize there is no one keeping score, there are no p…
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Gardening was supposed to be enjoyable and the fact that it always seemed like work to me made me feel guilty. My mother and sister are wonderful gardeners, and I have no reason to believe they are fibbing when they say they enjoy getting their hands in the dirt, tending their flowers and watching things grow. I do enjoy watching things grow—this i…
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A big storm would have been nice, but it’s really the lack of color that is getting me down. March is nothing but mud and surprise snowstorms and then more mud. April is nothing but cold wind and gray skies. So I expect big things from May. And, this year, May is dragging its heels. Whatever it is I’m waiting for, it doesn’t seem to be showing up.…
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I’ve been thinking about the marshmallow test off and on for years, ever since I heard about it. I am positive I would have waited for the second marshmallow. In fact, I think there’s a good chance, when the second one arrived, I would have let that one sit as well, thinking I could be the first four-year-old in history to be awarded three marshmal…
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I would see the face of the dance teacher light up as they assumed I was a dancer, and I would dread what was coming. I would stand up and start to move and the teacher would immediately realize they had made a mistake—I was absolutely not a dancer. In fact, I had enormous difficulty following the simplest instructions. The notion of “body memory” …
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Felix is our cat. He had made a small noise a few minutes before landing, but I had thought nothing of it. Now it smelled as if something was badly amiss. I know you might be having your breakfast as you listen to this, so suffice to say, of the three types of potential messes an animal could make in a small container, this was the worst of the opt…
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I googled the expression “nervous as a cat” and it comes from the idea that a cat moves very quickly and suddenly. It is used when a person is uneasy or overly alert. I don’t think Felix is uneasy in the least. But he is very alert. He can spring into action from complete stillness, zoom down the hall, bounce off the wall at the far end, return to …
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I used to feel the need to apologize to my hair stylists, “I’m good at doing some things,” I would insist. “Growing hair just isn’t one of them!” The hair stylist would work away for long minutes, and at the end, I would get up from the chair and there was no hair to see on the floor. It was as if the entire thing had been a pantomime involving sci…
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Anyone who has tried to properly scrub their ankles while standing in a shower should save their skills and become a yoga instructor. Or a stork. It is not physically possible. There are creative ways to get one’s feet clean, but the ankles suffer in a shower. And before anyone tells me it doesn’t matter because ankles are covered by socks, I’d lik…
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Instead of sharing a house with several cats and a rotating cast of dogs and birds, Felix is the only nonhuman in our house. He plays games with Peter and gets snacks several times a day. He talks a lot and has two people who listen to whatever he has to say, even if it is just his regular announcement of when he is going to have a bowel movement—w…
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