Newest Archives Profile Whispers Rings Host
And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way Weighing my pockets with stones of longing |
Weird dreams about flesh-eating plants. Tasted a really great chilled coffee drink, though - tasted sort of cinnamony with a hint of cardamon. Too bad it wasn't real. I think my dreams here so far have been stranger than they were when I was on mefloquine. I don't think I've been outside my building since Friday night. End up spending the afternoon in the ER waiting room - Jessica stubbed her toe on her suitcase and broke it. The hospital was quite understaffed, and consequently busy for a lovely Sunday full of potential accidents. There was a lot of blood and grimacing in that room, but people were surprisingly patient (Hence the term "patients" perhaps? Doctors always make you wait.) and amiable, comparing injuries and admiring each other's children. It wasn't all bad for me and Otalia, either - there were some cute puppies who had followed a mysterious punk fellow into the ward, and there was a show about hot surfers on the TV, interspersed with Disney channel shows. I think the punk guy had the remote. Called Kate and there were riots and a fire in her backyard tonight. Guess the political action is making its way southward, though no outbreaks as yet in Narbonne. Suzy and Steve are dating now, though she sounds scared of how serious he sounds. Wish I could talk to her. I can hear the landlord tromping up and down the stairs banging on doors demanding the rent. I already paid mine safely via his mailbox and hope that he delivers my quittance in the same fashion. He's not a scary guy, but all this lurky tappy creaking floorboard business has me picturing the cold shadow of death and wondering whether Bolognaise sauce could pass for lamb's blood.
Poor Man's Passover at 8:00 p.m.
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