My darlings, I am tired. Not in a punch-drunk, ready to do anything kind of way, but in a way that feels like someone verbally abused me until I believed it was true. And then found out it was true.
I told PTAMom that I was looking at real estate in Canada. She said, "It's really cold up there."
I said, "It's colder in hell, Mom!"
She laughed a nervous laugh.
Is there consolation? No. Not really. But Fafnir and Giblets make me happy. I want to have them to dinner. I just might ask them. They're cool. Whatever they talk about becomes cool. They could talk about slime mold and make it cool.
I must go. I think my stomach is demanding attention, even if only figuratively.
Half of this country makes me want to yak. Sons of bitches.
Posted by dotty at November 4, 2004 01:22 PM