The Ghost of Ethel Elizabeth Barringer

It as come to my attention that when I drink, I transform into a rich old lady.

Let me explain. 

A few nights ago I engaged in my favorite winter hobby, drinking wine by myself and scouring the internet for interesting tidbits. I started with the usual funny cat videos and recipe ideas, but an hour later I'm full-on shopping for yachts. I’m not sure how it happened exactly, but there I was, scrolling through pictures deciding which boat was most "me" and deciding wether or not I need a preinstalled sound system or wether it would be better just to have one custom made. This thought process is happening with absolutely no irony. In my mind, I was actually shopping for the boat which best suits me needs and lifestyle. I was actually weighing the pros and cons silently to myself, like, "Well, it would be a huge undertaking to retrofit an older boat with newer features... but then again what's the use in having a yacht if you can't blast Taylor Swift in absolute surround sound clarity?! I'm just not sure I’m willing to take that gamble."

Then I thought, "wait a minute you crazy bitch, you can't afford a yacht!" The thought had not occurred to me up until this point. Prior to this flash of sanity, I was completely willing to believe I was actually shopping for my future yacht. It’s crazy, I’ll give you that, but it’s what happened. Even more strange, this sort of thing happens to me all the time. The week before, it was shopping for tiny houses in Colorado, the week before that, it was farms in costa rica. Most people get drunk and shop on amazon for new stereos and cat houses, but not me! Apparently, I like to invite bigger possibilities into the crazy vortex that is my brain. I imagine myself in grand luxurious spaces that wine inhibits me from believing are unattainable.

So what, exactly, is happening here? I have 3 theories. 

Theory 1: I am just regular, run-of-the-mill crazy and my lust to shop for things I can't afford is incurable, but at the end of the day, completely harmless. 

Theory 2: The robot algorithms that advertise to me and guide my online experience want me to have these things. They are nice robots and believe that I have the potential to be a yacht owner, in a tiny house, on a Costa Rican farm. They show me these things in hopes that one day, I too will see my potential and make the purchases I so obviously deserve. 

Theory 3: I am the reincarnated spirit of a rich old lady. Wine drunk in front of a computer I become Ethel Elizabeth Barringer, heiress, and recreational croquet champion. Late at night, when I am unsuspecting and vulnerable, Ethel’s ghost awakens and takes over my reasoning and computer operating faculties, and makes herself comfortable in my pajamas.. although she resents that they are not made of silk or cashmere. She then uses my body to shop for the things enjoyed most in life, boats, kitchy properties and expensive coats. I like this theory best because it is the most absurd and further confirms theory number 1 and 2, so technically... it is a unified theory of my insanity. 

There is no scientific way to study this theory, and so, I am left only with suppositions and ponderings on the matter. In the interm I guess I will just continue to wine shop, until one day I can actually afford Ethel’s expensive tastes. Hopefully she understands it’s nothing personal and that I’m actually grateful she isn’t trying to get me to do anything unsavory like hoard a harem of cats, because I hate those little furry demons. (For more about how I hate cats read my blog: I hate cats.)

But, for now, I’m working on a fourth theory. Maybe Ethel is not a ghost at all, but rather a symbol of the fanciness inherent in me that I try to suppress, but can’t or, perhaps, shouldn’t. (Hmmmm stroky beard face 🤔 hmmmm). A gentle reminder never to be too cautious or too frugal because life is temporary and every day lived, is a day closer to death. (Whoa, super deep and super dark all the sudden, ok.) or perhaps she is simply a symbol for the high standards that keep me reaching for that which is just beyond my reach. 

So thanks Ethel, you crazy ol’ bitch, for reminding me fanciness is not a crime, and that I gotta let that shit out time and again. When I find a wine I like, why not buy a whole case? even though my apartment has no wine cellar and there’s basically no place to put it. Why not wear real pearls, even though no one these days knows the fucking difference? Why not wear fur and silk and eat name brand cereal? I’m worth it, dagnabbit!

This is the wisdom of Ethel. 

Why dress down when you can dress up? Why walk when you can glide? Why eat a sandwich when you can have a panini?...

Basically, why settle for less when you are worth so much more? Not just in material things, but in all parts of life: work, relationships, family... why do we find ourselves so ready to settle for less then we deserve?

No. Ethel ain’t havin’ it. 

So long as you ain’t hurtin’ anyone, honey, getcha the things that make you feel good, and surround yourself with those who make you feel good, and ditch everything and everyone who doesn’t; head up, chest out, no apologies.

Yep. *snap* *snap* You said it, you crazy old broad! You sure know how to cut right on down to the root of things. Now stop haunting my ass so I can go drink rosé and shop for salt water swimming pools in peace! I know I can’t fit one in my apartment but when I move into my mansion I don’t want to be under researched about the plethora of options. Best to get the information now before I am overwhelmed by fame, fortune and the massive task of redecorating Beyonce’s place. Something tells me it’s gunna need a complete Overhaul, I mean, she’s great but the girl has no taste.