Sylvia Cross Species Therapy: Downsizing

Remember the woman who wrote a book about using the techniques of dog training on husbands? I felt she had gone a bit far. Demeaning to both men and dogs.

I’ve thought on it for a long time and I think I’ve got it. The techniques can be applied a persistent female problem: getting rid of stuff. Stuff that never looked good on you and never will.

The plan: Each day you select an item to get rid of and put it in the same place, preferably in a little-used room. At this juncture it’s not necessary to actually throw anything out. Sniff the item. Examine it critically. Appreciate it.

Now move to the bookshelf, remove one book and add it to the pile, murmuring, “I know I’m never going to open a book store. I accept that about myself.” Next move to your cosmetic bag and repeat, changing “bookstore” to “day spa.” Then padlock the door behind you.

On Sunday, the Sylvia Behaviorists will visit you. They will massage your neck and put cucumber slices on your eyes. Then they will unlock the door and accompany you into the room. They will hold a freshly baked cranberry scone high in the air, and when you have put all your items into a garbage bag, you will get the scone.

The scenario will be repeated every week until scone reinforcement is unnecessary, or as long as needed.

Therapy Sylvia: Therapy For People Who Feel Compelled to Subscribe to Weekly Magazines

Dear Sylvia,
I needed to get my parking ticket stamped so I went into a Barnes and Noble. I know you told me never to do that. You said, “Buy a steak entrée instead. Never wander into a Barnes and Noble with absolutely no purpose in mind, because you will end up buying a New Yorker magazine. You will find a fascinating story about a psychopathic psychiatrist in New Zealand and an interesting Talk of the Town item and one cartoon that makes you laugh out loud.” Now I feel I have to subscribe to the New Yorker and then they will start piling up again. What should I do?
Sincerely,
Obsessed in Ohio


Dear Obsessed,
Do nothing! Lie down with a cold compress on your forehead, far away from your credit cards. Kick your checkbook under the bed where dust bunnies as big as Zeppelins are lurking. Keep saying over and over, “This feeling will pass, but a subscription to the New Yorker is forever!” Leave the door ajar and I’ll be over in 10 minutes.
Yours truly,
Sylvia

Looking for more comics featuring Sylvia’s insights? Find them in Nicole Hollander’s newest Sylvia compilation, The Sylvia Chronicles.