SZDD

Dear Wrestling,

I've been joking today about suffering from Sami Zayn Deficiency Disorder, but it's one of those jokes with a seed of truth in the center.

I was so angry at Sami there for a few weeks. I'm not anymore. I'm not happy about what happened, of course, but knowing that he's been injured this whole time--well, I was begging for a good reason that he agreed to it, right? One busted shoulder is plenty good reason, let alone two.

So, that's the first thing: that fury evaporated the moment I heard about his injuries.

It's been months since he's been on Smackdown, but you know, I still associate Tuesdays with him? That's the day of the week I miss him worst--that's not precisely accurate, it's the day I think about him most. That mostly takes the form of hoping he's well, remembering that his improv show is coming up and hoping he has fun, and that my friend Marie has fun at the show, being grateful he's able to be creative while recovering...just wishing him the best.

I've barely watched WWE the past couple weeks. I catch Kevin's parts, of course--and I've heard he really likes working with Braun Strowman, so I'm guessing/hoping he's happy. But partly there's been a good bit of New Japan to watch, and I have a new schedule working both Monday and Tuesday evening, and when I tried to watch Raw today, to catch up, it was just...bland. Nothing about it was enough to make me really watch. I skimmed through, caught Kevin wearing his man's hoodie, caught Seth telling one of the Three Jokes About Scots that are apparently allowed (sheepshagger, romance novel cover, and Scrooge McDuck), and nothing there was enough.

It will come as absolutely no surprise to you that I adore fairy tales. I find them terribly useful for learning how to live and how to treat people.

One of my very favorites I learned as a kid, and it's a version of Cinderella with a bit of Lear thrown in. When the father goes to his three daughters and asks how much they love him, in order to determine his will, this Cinderella tells him, "I love you like meat loves salt." The other sisters denounce this as the worst nonsense and insult, and she's evicted to the woods. A spooky woman helps her, and makes her a dress of Spanish moss.

The crux of the story is when Cinderella is working as a cook in secret in her poor blind father's house, and she prepares a meal for him with no salt. He complains and complains, and she brings out the salt cellar and whispers in his ear, "I love you like meat loves salt."

WWE, for me, right now, needs salt.

Love,
Autumn