i received a package yesterday from my dearest katie. it contained one (1) ridiculous book, one (1) eloise card, and the best part: one (1) pack matches -- excuse me, 'illumination sticks,' on the side of which were the words "2 pyromanies," or whatever pyromaniac is in french. you see, when katie and i went to france all i really remember doing is sleeping and lighting things on fire in hotel rooms (and getting chastised by the maid the next day). fun times, fun times.
i'm taking a long lunch today to hold aaron's hand at the hospital while they poke and prod at his cyst. this is great for one reason: i'll be able to read the aforementioned ridiculous book. this is awful for many reasons: i have to come in tomorrow to make up the hours, hospitals are scary and stifling, and while being in a hospital there is potential for someone to say, "you are dying."
and, i mean, we're all dying ... we were born to die. but i'd rather just kaput, than have three months of however long to dissect exactly what my life has consisted of and reflect on all my regrets and all that good stuff you do when you're about to die.
but we're not going to the hospital for a death-related manner, so i shouldn't be focusing so much on death. death! die! satan! heaven! death! death! death!
i obviously was up too late reading aforementioned ridiculous book.
suzzi, ex-future-roommate, called last night to say that she missed me. which is nice: when people who once tried their damndest to kick you out of their life say that they wish you were still around.
i'm sick of today. where the fast forward button on this life thing?
one year ago today: "it's time to cowboy down." two years ago today: "i feel like wearing a shirt that reads, 'She won't amount to anything.'"