hi. i'm back. and still in edmonton. my husband's (insert swear words here) company has AGAIN decided to buttfuck us and change plans at the last minute. mr. m is currently living it up in chicagoland, and i am fulfilling at least one of the planned...ahem...plans (rusty brain, forgive me) and working like the afore-mentioned respectable human being. one other thing that i am doing and doing frighteningly well is Not Drinking. also nights and nights of Not Sleeping as well as weeks of Not Having Sex. the Not Having Sex is obviously a given, and probably makes mr. m very happy (not the Not Having Sex bit, but the bit of me Not Having Sex what with him being very very far away, ok?), but the first two are really starting to piss yours truly off. inspired by a program on sleep on the cbc, i fantasize about going to a sleep clinic, getting hooked up to a bunch of strange wires and reminiscent-of-anal-probe instruments and having my inability to a) fall asleep and b) stay asleep analyzed by men and women in lab coats. of course since it is nigh near impossible for me to fall asleeep at home on our stupendous bed, it would be even more impossible to fall asleep while hooked up to a bunch of strange wires and reminiscent-of-anal-probe instruments while being observed by men and women in lab coats.
so here is a warning, and don't say i didn't warn ya, cause here is what i'm doing - warning ya! i can't drink and i can't sleep. something's bound to get loose and jiggly soon, and when it finally goes (and go it shall) i cannot be held responsible for the consequences. ok?
today we shall eat thai. possibly we shall go for a drink. possibly i shall consume one. or not. then we shall retire to bed really late, and i shall lie there for hours listening to the charleston beat of my heart thinking about Things. this chicken don't lie. thus it shall be.
hopefully when i go insane it will be interesting from a literary point of view, so at least y'all can get something out of it. no?