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And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way Weighing my pockets with stones of longing |
I just talked to my mom on the phone, and she was taking notes on all these things like when Napoleon was emperor of France and when Louis-Napoleon was president of France and when Napoleon III was emperor of France and then the jobs that I might want to have when I graduate and how long a creosote tree lives and what bonsai means and then she asked me where she can buy a vibrator and she was taking notes and I tried to tell her that the internet was safe, and I think she's torn between being identified at a shop that sells sex toys and having her identity stolen by a sex toy shop. I tried to tell her everything would be okay, and really I think that when the motivation is pleasure people will get over their fears pretty fast. Still, since when was I my mom's informant? She had sex like WAY before I did. Guess that means we're chums now, so I guess I shouldn't ask her to pay for my underwear. That would be funny, if I asked my friends to pay for my underwear. I should try that. Oooh, P.S. (darn you Hillary for passing off that infernal expression) I wore knee warmers today and was wildly delighted with their success. I think, though, that they won't stay up during folkdance, so I should take them off. How embarrassing would that be, in the middle of a bicycle stomp! And now in the spirit of slowly getting caught up from the end of the break, here is a little post-occurance vignette for my archival pleasure: Friday night Theo and I broke up. Saturday we made friends. Sunday I went home. And Monday I went back to work, and had the worst day ever. That morning I overslept and had to rush to my optometrist appointment, where my optometrist was apparently rushed because she prodded my eyeballs and kept flashing bright lights at my pupils and sounding stern when I couldn't keep my eyes looking at them because I was spastically blinking trying to recover. But while she was out of the room I secretly played with all the knobs and dials on the big eye machine, and that made me pretty happy. I wish I could get one of those for my birthday, but I guess that's pretty unlikely. After the assault on my ocular twins, the ladies at the checkout counter were particularly crabby, and the guy in the parking ramp was out of quarters so I got a whole handful of nickels and dimes for change. I went downtown and miraculously there was a parking space right in front of the Bagel place where I wanted to get lunch because Monday is wild rice soup day and because in December they have mulled hot cider. I was so hungry and in need of comfort food to cure my eyeball trauma that I ran inside, forgetting that I was not out of quarters. Two minutes later when I came out with my bagel and wild rice soup and hot cider and two handfuls of nickels and dimes because they were out of quarters I had my first parking ticket ever. So I kicked myself and spilled hot cider all over my hand, and then when I was putting it in the cup holder in the car the lid popped off and spilled hot cider all over the car, so I held onto it the whole way home and spilled hot cider all over my hand. I was turning into the driveway across from the big old barn where the sun sets and then BOOM a herd of 10 wild turkeys came running out of the woods, surrounding the car so I could go nowhere... [It should be known at this point that of all the birds in the world that I know about, wild turkeys are in the top five that most inspire terror. They are huge and black and move like they have snakes growing out of their feathers. They move in large groups and are not afraid of moving vehicles and you can see them off the highway, big black spots in the fields, wiggling and flapping and eating things. Next to them on the top list are crows that travel in swarms, Nile shoe-bills, West African vultures, and pileated woodpeckers.] So I was paralysed and incapable of moving my vehicle out of the domain of these beasts, and consequently spilled hot cider all over my hand... By the time I got home, my soup was cold and half of my cider was gone. At work that day I spilled three kinds of candy all over the floor. Do you ever have days like this? So now reliving all of those terrible bird images and the fact that I now have a parking violation on my record is going to make me all uncoordinated at folk dance. But it is there I must go. Clara would never be this unstable, would she? If I were a silent movie character, I would ask her for advice, and I think my mom would, too.
Shaky recoveries and pillow gossip at 4:10 p.m.
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