November 11th, 2001 | Author: trancejen
I’ve come slinking back to Diaryland with my proverbial tail between my legs, since Stern is currently being reconstructed and I am left Net-mute. I would probably explode with no outlet for the swirling mass of watercolor angst which gives my weird wittle head all its unique wittle quawities.I’m bored. Bored, bored, bored. Tomorrow, I get to go pick up MRI films and have yet another round of tests. I’m almost glad, since it will get me out of the house. Ooooh…spinal tap! Lights inserted in the pupils! Goody goody. Can’t wait. Take me, Doctor Neuro!! I throw myself at your Gucci-loafered feet (Gotta love yuppie doctors)!
I need a life.
Once I can drive again, *if* I ever can drive again (my lovely, fully loaded, dark blue, 1999 Saturn coupe sighs in the driveway…), I am going to go tearing down Lake Shore Drive at the speed of light. Tickets be damned. I am going to rip down I-94 like a bat out of hell, and the CPD can Eat My Dust. I am also going to wash and wax my car every damn week. Sometimes I go outside and just sit in it for a few minutes. It makes me kind of verklemmt, but it still feels good.
D. is getting lovehandles. I am shrinking, and he is ingesting the little fat molecules that pop off of me in the night. *Plink*, *plink*. The way he snores, it wouldn’t surprise me…
I’m not worried about it in the sense of “eeew”, but more in the sense of, “Hey Honey, your dad is three hundred pounds and has a bad heart – maybe you don’t necessarily want to follow in his footsteps?”. It’s a delicate subject, though, and no one know that better than I do; so I don’t bring it up. I occasionally make snarky little “it-might-not-hurt-EITHER-OF-US-to-work-out-more” comments, but since he is the very picture of charming naivete, snarkiness usually sails right by.
How the cynical bitch from the south side and John Boy from BuFu, USA got together is sometimes a complete mystery to me… I’ll write more later.
My DSL is coming today. I may never leave the Net again. Woo Hoo!
