Mondays are always my ridiculous day, as I have an hour-long weekly meeting at work right from 4:00 till 5:00, and then I have my my student--for whom I have to make lesson plans--and finally my Purple Clover articles are always due on Monday.
And I want you to know I did ALL THOSE THINGS, and basically was in pajamas by 8:30. Hooo care? I was exhausted.
I just finished a really large book I re-read from 15 years ago, called Gloria, and now I need a new book to read. With all my spare time, because I'm not moving in three weeks or anything. But you know how I am. If I don't have a book to fall back on I feel like I've forgotten my cigarettes or something. Not that I've ever smoked. But I imagine it's the same. I mentioned this analogy to Ned, who said when he smoked there was never, ever a time he'd forget, or run out of, cigarettes.
My point is, book suggestions? Nothing stupid. I mean, if it's like those impostor perfumes where they say, "If you liked Obsession, you'll LOVE Stalker!" but instead they say, "If you liked Twilight, you'll LOVE Vampires at Dinnertime!"
Not that I didn't read Twilight. All of them. I know. Shut up. That's why I say nothing stupid. Because I'll read something stupid just as easily as I'll read something good.
The other morning I was at Ned's and read a delightful short story he'd been reading, where a guy is on his honeymoon, having sex with his beautiful wife, and four pages later he kills himself. Ned has darkness in his soul.
Speaking of Ned, the other day he emerged from my kitchen, munching my box of lime Wheat Thins. "THIS is what I'm worried about when I live with you," he munched. I had no idea what he meant.
"UNHEALTHY SNACKS!" he said, and if you ask me, Wheat Thins aren't even that bad. Wait till I pull out the marshmallow fluff. Who do you think will win in this healthy/unhealthy war? Will I get all salady or will he help me with my weekly love letter to Hostess?
Also, you should SEE his closets. Everything's hanging the same way, all straight and tidy and so on, and there aren't 17,000 unmatched shoes on the floor, and no 900 tins of old love letters or sachets or hats or old shrugs I can't get rid of flopping all over the shelf on top. What I'm trying to say to you is Ned is neat.and.tidy. How soon till he kills me dead and uses Twinkies as his reason? "I wasn't used to processed foods! My brain snapped!" Marvin will come get on the stand in his defense.
All right, I have to go. Tonight I'm going to pack for awhile, then Ned and I are getting together. Oh, and I plan to try to mail your crate pictures tonight. PayPal me if you haven't, with your address.
And don't forget, books! Oh, and I forgot to promote yesterday's Purple Clover, which was rude of me. BAH!
