Purging (Not That Kind)
I don't have a lot of self-discipline these days. (Remember the seven Yankee Doodles in one sitting?)
I also don't have a lot of energy, it seems.
So when I lie here, communing with the couch (as I am doing right now), I tend to stare right at the four very neat and tidy but still ENORMOUS piles of newspapers that I have carefully constructed over the past five months while suffering under the drug-induced delusion that I will actually someday read them. (The drugs also make me think it's okay to write ridiculous run-on sentences.)
In my heart of hearts, I know I will never read them.
But I have convinced myself that I might, in fact, skim them.
Because I have, in fact, done just that. With equally large stacks. On more than one occasion.
And found little bits of gold in them thar mountains of newsprint.
Nothing I couldn't have lived without, of course.
Just a perfect op-ed piece. Or a review of a formerly unheard-of but now must-read book. Or a recipe that I know Zach would kill to have. Or a travel story on the place we've always talked about visiting.
And it's those little bits of gold that keep me from tossing out the paper on the days I don't have time to read it. Until one day I have a veritable stack.
And then two.
And then, suddenly, I've crossed clear into hoarding territory.
So today, recognizing that I do not now—nor will I likely ever—possess the discipline and energy to actually read, or even skim, this particular collection, I mustered enough discipline to cast them off (and enough energy to tie them up first).
And now they are stacked up very neatly on the street, waiting for tomorrow's recycling collection:
(Just to be clear, we're talking about the two little stacks on the left. That gargantuan one half out of the picture on the right is someone else's entirely.)
But if you think I'm giving up my comparatively demure pile of New Yorkers, you've got another thing coming.
I also don't have a lot of energy, it seems.
So when I lie here, communing with the couch (as I am doing right now), I tend to stare right at the four very neat and tidy but still ENORMOUS piles of newspapers that I have carefully constructed over the past five months while suffering under the drug-induced delusion that I will actually someday read them. (The drugs also make me think it's okay to write ridiculous run-on sentences.)
In my heart of hearts, I know I will never read them.
But I have convinced myself that I might, in fact, skim them.
Because I have, in fact, done just that. With equally large stacks. On more than one occasion.
And found little bits of gold in them thar mountains of newsprint.
Nothing I couldn't have lived without, of course.
Just a perfect op-ed piece. Or a review of a formerly unheard-of but now must-read book. Or a recipe that I know Zach would kill to have. Or a travel story on the place we've always talked about visiting.
And it's those little bits of gold that keep me from tossing out the paper on the days I don't have time to read it. Until one day I have a veritable stack.
And then two.
And then, suddenly, I've crossed clear into hoarding territory.
So today, recognizing that I do not now—nor will I likely ever—possess the discipline and energy to actually read, or even skim, this particular collection, I mustered enough discipline to cast them off (and enough energy to tie them up first).
And now they are stacked up very neatly on the street, waiting for tomorrow's recycling collection:
(Just to be clear, we're talking about the two little stacks on the left. That gargantuan one half out of the picture on the right is someone else's entirely.)But if you think I'm giving up my comparatively demure pile of New Yorkers, you've got another thing coming.
posted by Jody Rosen Knower at 8:23 PM
3 Comments:
"But if you think I'm giving up my comparatively demure pile of New Yorkers, you've got another thing coming."
Just to be clear about it, this is a divided household.
I have always known the expression to be "if you think {blah blah blah}, you've got another think coming." Think, not thing.
We're not the only ones who diagree: folks in general are split on this point. It seems to have something to do with where you're from, whether you give more weight to grammar or to sense, and the degree to which you listened to Judas Priest growing up.
For my money, the point is this: you're telling a person "if you think a certain thing, you're wrong; and therefore, you've got another thought coming." This is a common expression, and is in widespread use.
At some point, this expression evolved from "thought" into "think"; the morphing surely developed from the emphasis gained by the repetition of the word "think" in the new phrase. Yeah, I know, it doesn't work grammatically, but neither do many common idioms, such as "who'da thunk it", or "listen up!".
On the other hand, there is no logical reason for the word "thought" in the original phrase to evolve into the word "thing".
Just when the phrase morphed is uncertain, but the OED has this listing from 1937:
think, n. 2.b. to have another think coming: to be greatly mistaken.
1937 Amer. Speech XII. 317/1 Several different statements used for the same idea of some one's making a mistake...[e.g.] you have another think coming.
and this one from 2005:
thing, n. to have another thing coming [arising from misapprehension of to have another think coming s.v. THINK n. 2b] = to have another think coming s.v. THINK n. 2b.
When in doubt, I trust the OED. But then again, I also accept the phrase in baseball: "he flied out to right field"; my wife does not.
hmmmmm......I think you have way too much time on your hands to be worrying about this!
For the record,
--I always heard it the way Jody wrote it. Makes sense to me.
-- I have never heard your "common expression, in widespread use".
-- Your rationale, and OED description of the "think" makes sense. But I've never actually heard that version, and frankly, it sounds clumsy to me.
I think you're thinging this thought out way too closely-- but I sure thing it's fun! Thought I'd be a "typical Knower" and jump into the fray...just to stir the pot a bit, you know. ;)
I wonder what Barry would have said?
Oh, I have no doubt he'd have said "think".... and then spent twenty minutes explaining why.
Kind of like my post. Doh!
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