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august 11, 2001.I'm so very sleepy. The Boy, having decided that he wants to be a teacher when he grows up, has spent the night surfing through university websites and suffering through various bouts of low self-esteem. I'm trying to be patient, but lord almighty, it's difficult to be continually sunny around someone who has the demented melancholia of a Tennessee Williams heroine. Anyway. My second birthday went pretty well. The Boy came home right after work to give me some vital gossip, but soon left to gather the birthday tokens: cake, card & blooming vegetation. We went out for dinner in the white-trashiest Chinese buffet imaginable, then lay around in the hot living room, watching Waiting For Guffman. When it was time to go to bed, the house was still incredibly, insufferably hot...so we dragged the air-mattress to the living room floor and slept naked under the cross breeze from the front window. At some point in the night, I dimly remember staggering off to bed and getting under a cotton sheet, as it was now too cold to sleep uncovered. That was my little birthday adventure: sleeping in the living room. It was a tremendously liberating act, really. Theoretically I can do anything I want, but it's not often that I get to improvise like that. Sleeping in the living room - scandalous!
You know, I can't even really explain why I've suddenly fallen in love with the comic. Maybe it's the fact that every woman is strong & beautiful and most are fleshy as well. Or maybe I don't understand what's going on from my paltry 2 issues and I just want to decode the mystery. I suppose that there had to be some cosmic payback for disdaining televised soap operas...now I'm obsessed with a black & white Mexican one.
this time 3 years ago: crazy sleep dep entry |
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This weekend I've flipped from being relatively disinterested in 
