And I’m being forced to stick by Doug’s side day and night until he figures out what to do. This could take forever. He says that he’s mulling things over. He’s not about to ground me, he says, because he knows from previous experience that if he leaves me at home alone I’ll just end up sitting in my room all day, strumming my guitar and not washing my hair. With the summer winding down, he also knows I’m not about to find another job. Then presto, he gets an idea: why not take matters into his own hands and make my life miserable all by himself? Having your son lug equipment around behind you and then clean up after you does not make you a professional documentary filmmaker. But for Doug it will do for now. I’m now busy trailing him as he stalks after various people whom he feels are perfect for his reel. One of my jobs is to attach the microphone to those people. I have to lean in close, fiddle with their blouse or buttons or shirt collar or jacket. “You out here looking for a miracle like the rest of us?”
