Oh. Well, wh' in a hurry, sentence structure (yesterday's) does tend to suffer. (And the reason the day was "Bloody" ALMOst had to do with a saucepan aflame on the stove from spilled rum sauce; but, no, it was produced by a friend at a Sunday Potluck who dropped her glass bowl full of pasta salad on the driveway, and a ricocheted shard of the glass punctured the top of her foot. It was messy...)
Zygote did not sleep again last night. Post-noon caffeine needs to come under permanent ban.
Weighty thoughts churned as I lay in bed, trying to keep DH from repeating a rare 1AM outburst: "Why don't you ever sleep??!"
- - Thoughts about my conflicting genetic money map: Dad would not have cared about a certain $$ wastage coming up, but I anticipate Mom's chagrin (I'll tell her that true love does not count the cost!) when she unwraps my latest contribution to her less-than-closetful of tasteful attire. Happy BD, Mum.
- - The smog check man found someone had tampered with the check engine light in my car, clearly assuming it was I who rigged the failed smog offender
- - My pants don't fit, as a sprained foot delays returning to the gym these eight weeks (& the alternative behaviour to control growing thighs - not eating - is impossible for this young zygote)
- - The painter's been 'let go' after he painted the door shut
- - D1's new man friend has recoiled at her disclosure that she has a chronic disease
- - D2's manfriend calls only every 5 months or so, but she is not amused; a top pick bachelor asked me about her at yesterday's bbq, but I changed the subject, so stung was she the last time I tried to play matchmaker
... and so it goes. Ineptitude, calamity, gravity, mediocrity.
I venture into my blastocyte stage, wary of the pitfalls of my genetic past, my foible filled future, and a dim awareness that a salve awaits to heal the heart of so many disappointments. A healer. An Answerer. A fixer. And in the dark recesses of my quiet night... a TO DO list comes to mind:
1) actually start believing God loves you
2) actually start loving others better
Zygote did not sleep again last night. Post-noon caffeine needs to come under permanent ban.
Weighty thoughts churned as I lay in bed, trying to keep DH from repeating a rare 1AM outburst: "Why don't you ever sleep??!"
- - Thoughts about my conflicting genetic money map: Dad would not have cared about a certain $$ wastage coming up, but I anticipate Mom's chagrin (I'll tell her that true love does not count the cost!) when she unwraps my latest contribution to her less-than-closetful of tasteful attire. Happy BD, Mum.
- - The smog check man found someone had tampered with the check engine light in my car, clearly assuming it was I who rigged the failed smog offender
- - My pants don't fit, as a sprained foot delays returning to the gym these eight weeks (& the alternative behaviour to control growing thighs - not eating - is impossible for this young zygote)
- - The painter's been 'let go' after he painted the door shut
- - D1's new man friend has recoiled at her disclosure that she has a chronic disease
- - D2's manfriend calls only every 5 months or so, but she is not amused; a top pick bachelor asked me about her at yesterday's bbq, but I changed the subject, so stung was she the last time I tried to play matchmaker
... and so it goes. Ineptitude, calamity, gravity, mediocrity.
I venture into my blastocyte stage, wary of the pitfalls of my genetic past, my foible filled future, and a dim awareness that a salve awaits to heal the heart of so many disappointments. A healer. An Answerer. A fixer. And in the dark recesses of my quiet night... a TO DO list comes to mind:
1) actually start believing God loves you
2) actually start loving others better
This list is one I keep composing, and losing, year after year after year.
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