Written @ 9:58 p.m. on 2007-11-05
brain dump
Ok, time to write. Time to dump it all into the little white box. I have been in bed for the past two days, sleeping. That little problem that had me in the ER last month, is back. I have to go to a doctor. I don't want to go to a doctor. I want to stay in bed and pretend its a cold, and I can just sleep it off. I'm afraid it's cancer, and I'm going to die, or it's a huge, giant oaktree growing in there, or, an alien baby. Ok. There are my fears. Analyze as you will. I told Melissa I would go to a doctor. I just didn't say which decade. I am very tired.
I have stopped losing weight. I lost like, ten pounds, and then stopped. I'm happy that I lost ten pounds, and really enjoyed the garlic knots I ate today, dripping with grease, from the pizzaria downstairs.
I spoke to my childhood best friend, Ralph, today. He had a rat's tail, which was a hairstyle in the 80's where one skinny piece of hair grew down a little boy's back like a rat's tail. I used to wake up on Saturday mornings, go to his house, and stay until bedtime. His parents never questioned this, and treated me like one of their kids. Ralph just happened to pop up on AIM, which he never does. He has a Big Important Job in Homeland Security and is working on his PHD. He would now like to have a private life. I have a great man and two kids, and now would like to start some sort of a career of some sort, or some sort. Heh.
His parents moved to NYC without telling me. They didn't sell the house, though. They are using it on weekends. Ok. Deep breath. I can accept this change. Breathe. Apparently, Ralph's dad got some frickin' incredible Big Important Job in the city. I am happy. I would heap all the world of good things on these people. They were so good to me as a kid. They should have a parade in their honor. Seriously.
(How can they MOVE!?!?!?)
Tomorrow is Voting Day, and my ex-brother-in-law is running for County Comissioner. He sent out a flyer that had several misspelling and some truly hysterical grammatical errors. He's a firefighter. I wonder if the people of this city will catch on to the linguistic creativity in his campaign literature, or not. My lawyer called me up to tell me about it. We had a good laugh. Hope she didn't charge me by the minute for that laugh, come to think of it.
This is the same guy who knocked on my door, drunk, at two in the morning, and scared me to death. That happened way back when I first moved to this city. He wanted to have a chat about how we lived only blocks away from each other, and how we ought to be buddies. He had come in peace. I told him we would be buddies when he stopped paying for my ex's legal fees. He stumbled home. Yes, I remember, I had just started dating B, and I called him in a panic, that someone was banging on my door in the middle of the night. B. arrived, all heavy-metalled up, with boots clomping and chains clanging, and stood right next to me while the ex-BIL and I had our little talk. Vote for him, ya'll.
The girls returned from their weekend at their dad's. They went to church to hear the triplets sing in the choir. They played video games and went to the dog park with my ex's two new puppies, Luke and Laya. They had breakfast for dinner. They returned with most of the clothes they left with. P. was in hysterics when she returned, not wanting to come home. N. told me that dreadlocks were horrible, and "did I even wash my hair???" Yeah, so apparently they all had a family discussion about how gross my hair is. Nice. P. was consoled when I promised that she would see daddy again on Friday. I tried not to let on that it broke my heart that she didn't want to come home... but with triplets, and puppies, and fun fun fun 24-7, I can understand. I have rules, and bedtimes, and vegetables. Sigh.
(Boy, I am really negative tonight. I'm just getting it out in the white box, people. Don't be alarmed. I'm ok.)