Imaginary Dead Boyfriends (aka IDBs)--those wonderful, always-available fantasy-makers that are A) dead and B) imaginary. That's what Merriam-Webster says. Seriously, go look it up. OH, your copy doesn't have an entry for that...I sometimes forget that only mine does. Well, mine and my sister's. One of mine is particularly on my mind today--Elvis Presley. Not only do we (sort-of) have the same middle name, but I just bought my first boxed set, and wow. "Suspicious Minds" just isn't the same when someone else sings it. (Although Pete Yorn did a pretty smokin' job. He is also an imaginary boyfriend, but living, and therefore outside the scope of this post.)
I'm relying a lot on my IDBs lately. In Erinland, Elvis is waiting at the end of a long day, to tell me that I did a good job and that the people in my life making me absolutely crazy shouldn't be allowed to dominate my thoughts. Of course, he learned this lesson the hard way what with the drugs and all. Some days, instead of Elvis, George Washington welcomes me home, or perhaps Michelangelo. They each tell me that I can deal with stress and other "adjustment issues" by marching armies across the enemies or taking a chisel and hammer and rearranging their faces. I especially like it when Jean Lafitte welcomes me home and tells me that life is one big swashbuckling adventure complete with intrigue and romance.
Hey--you have your adjustment techniques and I have mine.