ooo m,

I can feel The Crazy creeping up on me. I feel compelled to wear gray shirts and jeans, like I just want to blend in. With grungy colors. And hugs from children sometimes incite claustrophobia. Not always, just sometimes. And I want to be a hermit, not go anywhere, even yoga. No.socialization. I’m allergic.

And I get annoyed by small, picky things, like Idol running over (gah – Idol) and truncating my recording of Glee, so that I (apparently) missed Like a Prayer or somesuch song at the end. Bastard Time Warner Cable. I won’t be sad to see you go.

Also, we missed an appointment this morning (chiro) that J.Lo and I went back and forth on rescheduling, for three days. No, you call. I don’t want to call, you call. You better call, because I’m not going to call! Well, no one called, so we ended up looking scatter-brained and rude. (And yet, part of me doesn’t care? Because of The Crazy. The Crazy shrugs off rude, pretends it never happened.)

I want my Red Tent, dammit. I mean, so we have to right to vote and indoor plumbing. I guess that’s the tradeoff for us modern women? Cheap.

It’s raining today, which I sort of love, not just because it matches my mood, but because the plants will all get a good soak. And because I myself won’t have to go out there and water. The Crazy approves.

We picked strawberries yesterday, and they’re so tasty and I love them for being them, but I’m vaguely annoyed that they were all a day or two past ripe, so they’re on the brink of rot. Which is unfortunate when you buy a bucket and a half. Anyway, I made a sloppy batch of chocolate-covered strawberries, and had some others sliced up on my granola, and if I can get my hands on some rhubarb in the next day or two, there will be pie. Oh, yes, there will be pie.

The limoncello has turned glowy yellow and smells all limony. Snicket.

It’s time for Mario Kart, Wiiiiiiii! Woohoo.

peace out

pen