Unrelated Thoughts
My mother called me last night to tell me that my dad wanted to know why I hadn't called this weekend. Your dad keeps asking about you. "Has Muffy called?" he keeps asking. I keep telling him the phone works both ways, but maybe you should call him. I asked her if he was home. No, he went grocery shopping.
This morning I went for a nice long jog. I've been enjoying my newfound jogging routine, which is nice, since I'm so tired of feeling so fat an inert all the time. I like to get to that point where I'm positive I'm just going to die of death and exhaustion and sweating and all of that and then continuing long enough to remind myself that my mind isn't the boss of me. I also like to look at the puppy dogs.
I have a blister on the instep of my right foot. I got it three weeks ago when I was wearing my cute red shoes. Initially I had a matching blister on the left foot, but that one is long since gone. This is the blister that will never die. It's hanging on for dear life, and as far as I can tell it's only full of air. I think it's a sign of my maturity that I haven't gone at it with a sharp object yet. I tend to spend most of my work day with my shoes off under my desk. I cross my right knee over my left knee, and every time I look down I see this blister. I also see my blue glitter toenail polish which is barely clinging to two of my toenails.
Saturday night I started acting out at around 5:30. I didn't know what I wanted to do, and I couldn't figure out how to decide. Jenya sat across from me and rattled off suggestions while I grunted in response to each one. I then got hungry and walked over to the kitchen to make a snack. There was still no food. I sat back down and grumbled about how I was hungry AND I didn't know what I wanted to do. "We can go have dinner?" "It's tooooo EARRRRRRLLLLLY for dinner," I whined. Ultimately I was informed that it isn't appropriate to be mad at Jenya because I can't figure out what I want to do. This logic was lost on me. "Jenya. Make us margaritas, kay?"
"Okay, do we have anything that goes in them?"
"No."
"Why don't you go get the stuff for the margaritas, and also for quesadillas?"
"Why do I hafta gooooooooooooooo?"
"You're the one who wants something to do!"
"Oh." I laid on my back. "Why oh why is it so hard to be meeeeeee."
"I don't know."
"Wanna come with me to get stuff for margaritas?"
"Okay."
I guess the moral of that last story is, be glad Jenya is the one who's dating me. She's taking one for the team.
My mother called me last night to tell me that my dad wanted to know why I hadn't called this weekend. Your dad keeps asking about you. "Has Muffy called?" he keeps asking. I keep telling him the phone works both ways, but maybe you should call him. I asked her if he was home. No, he went grocery shopping.
This morning I went for a nice long jog. I've been enjoying my newfound jogging routine, which is nice, since I'm so tired of feeling so fat an inert all the time. I like to get to that point where I'm positive I'm just going to die of death and exhaustion and sweating and all of that and then continuing long enough to remind myself that my mind isn't the boss of me. I also like to look at the puppy dogs.
I have a blister on the instep of my right foot. I got it three weeks ago when I was wearing my cute red shoes. Initially I had a matching blister on the left foot, but that one is long since gone. This is the blister that will never die. It's hanging on for dear life, and as far as I can tell it's only full of air. I think it's a sign of my maturity that I haven't gone at it with a sharp object yet. I tend to spend most of my work day with my shoes off under my desk. I cross my right knee over my left knee, and every time I look down I see this blister. I also see my blue glitter toenail polish which is barely clinging to two of my toenails.
Saturday night I started acting out at around 5:30. I didn't know what I wanted to do, and I couldn't figure out how to decide. Jenya sat across from me and rattled off suggestions while I grunted in response to each one. I then got hungry and walked over to the kitchen to make a snack. There was still no food. I sat back down and grumbled about how I was hungry AND I didn't know what I wanted to do. "We can go have dinner?" "It's tooooo EARRRRRRLLLLLY for dinner," I whined. Ultimately I was informed that it isn't appropriate to be mad at Jenya because I can't figure out what I want to do. This logic was lost on me. "Jenya. Make us margaritas, kay?"
"Okay, do we have anything that goes in them?"
"No."
"Why don't you go get the stuff for the margaritas, and also for quesadillas?"
"Why do I hafta gooooooooooooooo?"
"You're the one who wants something to do!"
"Oh." I laid on my back. "Why oh why is it so hard to be meeeeeee."
"I don't know."
"Wanna come with me to get stuff for margaritas?"
"Okay."
I guess the moral of that last story is, be glad Jenya is the one who's dating me. She's taking one for the team.
Alana wrote this crap at
7:15 AM
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