My favorite time of the blog day…

Is right.
Now.
My house is so quiet I can hear the fan on my CPU.
I can see occasional flashes of lightening in the slim windows above the shutters…
And sometimes, a jet.
I love twilight
(which it’s not…)
because the jets are more visible than the stars,
easily discerned.
And did I mention that I haven’t felt my voice for days…
Not the one that comes through my throat
and mouth
and tongue
and teeth.
The one whispering through the winding pathways in my head…
It has been too loud here.
Oh, what a fucking weekend.
FUCKING.
GOD DAMN STUPID.
Weekend.
Exhausting, non-restorative, shitty.
Weekend…
Book ended by fabulousness.
I haven’t made up a word in a while…
I’m sure I will soon.
Am I sounding scattered to you?
I almost feel scattered.
I am skipping rather quickly through the thoughts
Because…
They are lined up eagerly…
And they all tumble out.
You know the drill:through my fingers, and into your eyes.
But I want to slow down…
Complete a thought—
Or two.

My leg just fell asleep.

So, here’s the recap:
Crappy weekend, book ended by fabulousness.
I should dwell on the fabulous.
(ness.)
Friday night:  good food, good friends, great conversation.
Fast forward through the domestic pain that was Saturday and the first half of Sunday—
(pain of the “my kids are driving me nuts” variety, just fyi.)
to my afternoon with J.
My best best best friend.
We had a lovely…
Late lunch? Early dinner?
Whichever.
So good to catch up.
We’re both busy, etc…you know how it goes.
We don’t get together as often as we should.
She is an amazing woman, and I am so proud of her.
Saw an old friend…

Sunday nights are magical…
They are like an empty canvas,
Only without all the paint fumes…
Go ahead, give me a “what the fuck?” I dare ya.
I’m just glad the boys have school in the morning AND I DON’T.
Glory
Glory
Hallelujah.
Whoever said, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” was most definitely talking about mothers of spazzy twins.
Like, fer sure.
God DAMN I love those kids…
Even more when I’ve had a few hours to myself.

Carpet is FINA-fucking-LLY getting laid in the basement this week.
Was that déjà vu, or did I already say that, LAST WEEK??
…I guess I should stop counting my cocks before they hatch, eh?
What???
They could all be male baby chickens!!!!
Um…is it strange that all that cock talk made me horny?
Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Be glad you didn’t admit to your somewhat-conservative best friend that you showcase your bralessness every Tuesday to a bunch of strangers on your highly nerdy by nature website…huh?   No, I don’t know what I said, either.  (ok, maybe I do, but I didn’t want  you to feel bad. Or make fun of my long/retarded sentence. Bite me.)

Ok, on that note…
Happy Monday, fuckers.