Dostoevsky

I had a lot of head clearing to do this weekend. Not only was there the fun and games with Mr. Zips which, after a two-hour, very late night phone call still needs to be worked through but at least we've determined that we want to work it through. But Thursday night the wonderful Peeps decided to play catch with my mobile phone, knocking it into a useless oblivion. And then, Friday, Napolean (shocking!) pulled a passive-aggressive move on me and in my fabulous state of mind, I flew off the handle and wound up swearing and slamming doors. (I'm sure that will come back to haunt me in my annual review...)

So, yeah, it was a rough week. To rejuvinate from it, I went on a lot of long walks this weekend. It was definitely nice to see my neighborhoods leisurely, all of the kids out playing basketball in their driveways, moms & dads weeding or washing cars, older folks hanging out on their porches drinking coffee and tea. Sometimes, it's really nice to live in a quiet, bedroom community.

On one of my rambles, I noticed a bunch of white spraypaint graffiti on mailboxes and walls. One word, repeated over and over. "Dostoevsky."

What?

Why would someone tag "Dostoevsky" in the middle of Watertown, MA? What is the state of mind of the late-night, drunken teenager that s/he wants to invoke the name of the Russian existentialist novelist? Why "Dostoevsky" and not, say, "Green Day?"

Every time I feel like I'm standing on the ledge of sanity, have had a rough week and I'm ready to pull my hair out, I see something that reminds me I'm probably not as bad off as I thought.