I’m in a fog today. I feel like George, after he had sex with the Portuguese waitress.
- The high is 89° today (I’m saying that like it’s good), which is borderline almost not really cool enough to take a nap in your car at lunch. If you don’t mind waking up with soggy jeans and your hair pasted to your forehead.
- For some reason, dead bugs are turning up all over the house. At least they’re dead. Doesn’t change the fact that I should probably vacuum.
- My husband is out of town so I’ve been forced to clean out the cat box myself (FWP). Don’t worry: I’m wearing a plague mask and elbow-length neoprene gloves rated to handle sulfuric acid, toxic waste and the AIDS virus.
- Finally swam laps in the pool with a lady who was slower than me. She looked about 97 and she was using a snorkel.
- I yelled at a kid who stuck his head inside the ladies’ locker room and was rewarded with the shank-eye, which surprised me. I didn’t start giving folks the shank-eye until I was at least 13.
- I’m clinging to running, but I feel like it might be time to say goodbye pretty soon. It’s very hard to let go: when I’m walking, I get antsy. I look down to the end of the street and think about how freaking long it’s going to take to get there. (Never mind that my running pace is only slightly faster than my walking pace; it’s the principle.) I want to be running. But then I run and I feel awkward and clumsy and heavy. Lather, rinse, repeat.
- The computer is fixed. Now the monitor’s not working. ::cocks pistol::
I just peed fifteen
minutes ago and now I
have to pee again.
Tell me something funny. Or horrible. In 5/7/5. I’m counting on you.