Last night

I composed in my head a lovely blog post, and the start of a story.
Fuck if I can remember 'em though.
I just need to give in, and go live alone and be that crazy artist chick that everyone's a little afraid of.
It would be so much easier.
Then I could sit bolt upright and dash for my laptop in the middle of the night without my husband acting all suspicious and/or interupting my train of thought with his (perfectly reasonable) stupid questions!!
So, instead, I lie awake and spin tales which are lost forever.
Oh well.
As we've learned, through trial and error (but mostly error), my thoughts have a short shelf-life.
If I try to write somethnig down which sounded brilliant in my head only moments before,
I usually end up with Grade A turkey poo.
Or Grade F mouse poo...
Anyway, you get the point.

Today I am off to lunch and a movie with some good girl friends.
There is too much drama in their lives;
I feel sad for this and hope it abates soon.

I am wearing new shoes,
and may have actually uttered the phrase, "I think these shoes make me look fat."
I belong in the Whiney Women Hall of Fame, don't I?
Oh well.
They do!
But I'm wearing them anyway.
If you can't be fat and be ok with LOOKING fat, then--
er.
...diet?
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Piss.
I hate that part.
nah, I look pretty good.
But I have very small feet and I'm used to wearing very big shoes.
It's all about symmetry and balance--
small feet make big parts look bigger, right?
Well.
Whatev.

I'm going to have a fun day.
I hope you do, too.