I'm a flower, I am
I realized something today that makes me a little sad: I am now too old to ever be referred to as an enfant terrible. How weep-making is THAT? Very, that's how weep-making. But at least I still have a lot of time left to be decried, because I'm not sure I'd feel I lived a full life if I was never publicly decried for something. It would be Fantastic to someday be a "pariah", but I'm not going to get my hopes up.
Currently I am drowning in emails and letters and phone calls, though obviously not Literally, because duh. But I'm busy, is what I'm saying, and I'm not sure how I'll get everything done that needs to be done. I'm supposed to have a phone appointment today--some people calling me--and I hate making phone appointments because what if I get a call one minute before the appointment time, so I pick the phone up, and it's not the phone appointment person? Then when the appointment person calls one minute later, I'm stuck on a call with someone else: this creates too much angst for me, for in some ways, I am just a fragile desert flower. THAT BETTER NOT BE SOMEBODY PUKING I HEAR.
Francisco just emailed me and made me laugh and laugh. He said the Boy called him to ask if he could spend the night at a friend's tonight, and Francisco said yes. The friend's dad is picking Boy up from track practice and we'll take Boy's overnight stuff to him this evening. The part that made me laugh was Francisco ending the email with, "Entering preliminary arousal stage. Over." He's the best.
It's two hours later now (wrote the above earlier) and it looks like I'll have to work this weekend; probably just 3 or 4 hours tomorrow morning. This turn of events, coupled with my liver's strict bedrest (no cocktail Friday for me), will make the weekend somewhat less fun, but that's April for you. Meh, I'm sure the weekend will be fun enough, especially what with tonight's hot monkey lovin'. Woo!
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