Thursday, November 13, 2008
It's 12:07 A.M. and insomnia has set in. I guess that's the price you pay for going to sleep at 8 P.M. Actually four hours of sleep is not bad, and in some circles might even be considered a good night's sleep! I'm toying with the idea of going down to Mt. Potato Peeler's brand spanking new 24/7 gym. Over that. Cruised around at Cake Wrecks and found Mr. I'm-President-and-You-Aren't-Nanny-Boo-B00. What is this crusty sticky glob of sugar on the elbow of my robe?????? Today I was proofing a paper with the author perched right above me on my "proofing stool". I've long ago accepted that yes I have to edit 7th grade essays as punishment for being a baby beater in another life--Karma--ya gotta love it. But today I received a small pay-off. Mr. Author wrote that he was heading off to Australia to begin a new civilization with 5 other poor schmucks and by golly they were taking 3 "Douche ovens"! Maybe I'll go raid the tower of goodies that arrived from the Popcorn Factory last week. So far we've been using it as a centerpiece--shared a Pixie (it's really a turtle) with Elyse on Sunday. Hold on. I'll go take a picture.
Paco did something horribly right for Gallup and this arrived in the mail. You start at the top with little foil-covered chocolate leaves and end up on the bottom with some gourmet popcorn making brief stops in boxes in between to sample nuts, candy pumpkins and I don't know what all. Actually the snug fitting ribbon/chastity belt has proven to be the best deterrent for complete hog-ness that I've ever seen. So hmmmm....whatcha up to? Maybe I should go practice the piano. What else is new? NEWSFLASH!!!!! JUST IN FROM IDAHO!!!!!! MIDNIGHT BLOGGER PUTS ENTIRE FREE WORLD TO SLEEP WITH RAMBLINGS!!!!! ....yeah, everybody but herself probably. Hungry. Douche oven potatoes anyone? I've got some stuff on my mind. Maybe that's what is messing with my sleep. Feel free to drop out here. I'll not be offended. Anybody keeping up with The Office? I find Michael almost painful--he's such a tragic figure to me. And I'd give anything for a Dwight at my school. But then I'd need a Pam or Jim too and that just isn't going to happen. Ever. Hey! Wake up!!! Don't leave me!!! Here's a picture of my kid's leg the night before he got married. He ran afoul of a log appendage when we were out getting firewood a few weeks ago.
I wonder how that bruise played out for him on Waikiki for the honeymoon. I'm not much on beach etiquette, but I would think that stomach-turning displays of wounds wouldn't go over well. I don't know. What a long night. Long and dark. Wind is beginning to howl. Just when I start to think I have amazingly good mental health I get overrun by a funk. Anybody else out there funk-y? I feel like I'm on one of those crazy cutloose cabooses in a cartoon--you know the ones where the train car tears madly around corners and the big cartoon faces with the looks of terror and tongues lolling out zoom in and take up the whole screen? That's how I feel. Only my train car this time seems to be me and the aging process. And I can't stop it or control it. Way down at the end of the track I see myself reclined in a barcalounger in a nursing home sleeping around the clock with my mouth open and my skin sort of ashen. My lips and nose are chapped from the oxygen tubes, but I can't even have any Vicks or Metholatum becaue the petroleum in them is flammable. So I discover that butter does the trick and now I sneak that at dinner. Don't tell on me. Today I missed my bathtime because when they came around I just didn't feel like it. Now I have to wait for 3 days to catch another one. A polar fleece blanket is thrown haphazardly over my knees, and next to me here in the commons area is an old guy with his pant legs hiked up--bony legs exposed. He's in the same spot that they've parked him in during the day for the last 3 months. But his hair looks nice. On Tuesdays somebody comes to do my nails. Wednesday is BINGO and Relief Society. The nurses try hard to hang decorations for every holiday. The custodians try unsuccessfully to keep that awful awful smell at bay. How come we enter into this world with so much fanfare, celebration, and dignity and the exit is so confoundedly depressing? Anybody wanna analyze where all this came from? Go read something happy. I'm going back to bed. Send cheer.