I am not a spontaneous person.
I like for things to be planned to the very last second, knowing where I need to be and when I need to go to bed so I can get up in time to leave in time to get there.
So when I have an epiphany, like, "I should not allow my life to be scheduled around when I can find a parking space," and then I start driving to places after 4pm and find myself at the beach dancing about gaudy apartment complexes and doing cartwheels down sand dunes and not worrying about getting sand down my pants and how it's going to be all over the apartment for the next twelve years and public displays of affection are ok whether or not anyone's looking and I don't have to have conversations in crowded rooms to make myself feel less conspicuous and I don't have to think about being or not being because whether I am or not I am.
So it didn't exactly happen like that, but you don't need to know any different.
And the sand is still all over the apartment, but that's why I have a Swiffer.
And there will always be a place to park even if I have to drive around for a few extra minutes, I'd rather get home later than have been home all night.
Maybe not every night.
But that's why I don't care.
Aqua Teens, we could learn a few things from you.
I apologize for this entry. My high school therapist just died.
And I'm so deliriously in love that not a whole lot else matters.
one year ago today: nothin. two years ago today: nothin. three years ago today: "Where are the She-Ras, the My Little Ponies, the Care Bears of today?"