There will be no day-5 mosaic update today. I first canceled on Wikus for the gem and mineral show, and I so wanted really wanted to go. Then I became one with the couch and let The Boy take care of me. Though, he is now really sad because I ate all the crackers, but possibly misunderstanding what he meant when he said I could have some of the crackers that came with the soup. I took "some" to mean "all." We then watched the first 3 episodes of season 2 of Dexter. I'm really trying hard to enjoy Dexter, but that voice over constantly bopping me over the head with exposition makes me wince and say bad words. Or at least fling copies amounts of snot at the TV. The Boy seems to enjoy it well enough, so I do it for him. But if that character narrates one more "feeling" instead of just letting the scene play out so my wee little brain can actually observe what he's feeling, I'm just going to slit my wrists. That way The Boy can still watch it, and I won't have to. It seems the most logical thing to do.
Then I tried to read "What is the What," which I totally recognize as a good book with an important story to tell, but I'm just having the worst time wanting to read it. It's fine enough writing, it is a compelling story, but I just don't think about it when I'm not actually reading it. And I'm a COMPULSIVE reader. Yet, with this book, I'm totally willing to work through lunch, and watch tv instead of reading before bed. It is terrible, and I don't know what the problem is. After a few pages, I went to sleep in my fucking opulent bed. I am way more interested in this bed than I am reading. A super nice mattress, 600-thread-count sheets and a new down comforter makes for a soft heavenly bed. Even The Boy, who was skeptical about getting this particular mattress, is loving it. He doesn't like spending time in bed unless it is for something other than sleeping. The secret it seems to get The Boy to understand something truly awesome, is to just let him experience it for himself.
Reading obviously led to me falling asleep. Our very nice, yet crazy, neighbor was mowing our yard (the deal is he mows our yard if he is allowed to borrow our mower to mow his lawn--I had nothing to do with this deal, because I'm not comfortable with that sort of thing, but he insisted and The Boy agreed). There's a lawn mower going on outside and I fall asleep. This is basically unheard of. I don't like noise when I'm sleeping. Nor do I like light. I want to sleep all the time, but conditions are rarely optimal. I slept probably for a good 2 hours. The Boy had a shorter nap next to me, and oh, how I felt like shit, but it was easy to forget in the bed that is made of all that is good like kittens and puppies.
The rest of my evening have been spent here on the couch with the orange lover. There is no way I can even step foot in that garage. Not today. I'm so upset about it, I'm on a roll, and my body is forcing me to stay away. Stupid fucking body. Always fighting itself. Getting confused and thinks it is under attack by molds, juniper and dust, so it has to defend itself by trying to kill me. How can I be saddled with such a stupid, fucking moronic body?
I'm more than thrilled to spend the week at work where there will be dust stirred up as 3/4ths of the floor packs up to move. Maybe I should just remove my eyes now, blow up my nose and tear out my lungs. This should be good preventative measures. Or I could watch more Dexter and see which gets me to kill myself first.
Bets?
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