Oh, the things I would have said. The crystal-clear prose, the trenchant epiphanies, the kind of blog entry you would have forwarded to old girlfriends saying you wanted to see them again.
But alas, tonight I have been caught by a dual tripwire: first off, Lucy needed to be walked around and around and around this morning from 7am to 10am, after I was up all night trying to finish another project. Thus I went back to bed for a few minutes and woke up and it was GODDAMN 3PM. I haven’t done that since trying to stave off depression in 1998, and it has left me useless all day, freaking out over all the Prime Life Moments I’d slept through.
The second problem is that it was pissing rain and 45 degrees upstate today. That, my friends, is 13 degrees above freezing, and 30 degrees below normal. Trust me when I say this: it is usually so beautiful here you could cry every day. The spring honestly does the work of 400mg of Zoloft, Lexapro, Paxil, Zokoglut, Xukluxamor, and Zyxxyzyzkyzz – and you feel like you could never be unhappy again.
But throw in a day like today and you WANT TO FUCKING KILL YOURSELF BECAUSE IT’S MAY 24 FOR FRIGGIN’ FORK’S SAKE AND IT SHOULDN’T GODDAMN BE LIKE THIS!
So I have nothing to say today except the weather better get better for my birthday on Thursday and stay good through the weekend, or ELSE. It rains on my birthday every year and now that the Red Sox have won, Bush got re-elected, and the falcon cannot hear the falconer, perhaps Nature can see fit to make something else utter bizarre happen and give me some SUN for my birthday.
I don’t ask for much. Just:
– UNC in the hunt for the National Championship every year
– no autism or cancer in my family
– cars with side airbags
– air conditioning, Coke, Excedrin and occasionally Afrin
– my 3-point shot to go in at least 37% of the time
– a good song on the radio every fifth tune
– wifi and espresso everywhere
– a window
Oh well, nevermind, I have an embarrassment of riches. Go ahead and let it rain on my birthday again.