I love diaries – other people’s diaries, which is why I keep reading Heather Armstrong’s site even though I can barely stand her anymore.
Like all her other 500 readers (that’s just a wild guess; it’s probably more like thousands), I feel as if I know everything about her: how she got fired from her job for blogging about her boss (like, duh…); how she met Jon, who got to quit his day job to manage her site; how she ended up in a mental hospital after their first child was born; how Leta wouldn’t walk and her physical therapy and her eating habits and her tantrums and everything in the entire world anyone could want to know about a small child; how Chuck can balance remarkable objects on his head (he’s a dog); and how baby Marlo came along and was wonderful.
But now, as I’ve written before I think, she’s gotten just a bit too self-satisfied, bragging about being on TV and being invited to a conference at the White House even though it was really in an office building many blocks away; and her latest blogs, where she seems to think we’re hanging on every installment of her Yes We Bought Our Dream House uh oh No We Didn’t oh wait Oh Yes We Did, are the last straw for me. (I guess I only like tragic heroines.)
I’m not going to link to her site, because you either know about her or you don’t, and if you don’t I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested and besides there’s way too much to catch up on.
Someone once told me, after I’d finished complaining about a particularly obnoxious friend, that I had a hard time giving up on friends. I’m going to practice on Heather – just as soon as I can manage to delete that bookmark.