Back on Track

I need to get there. I have turned into a slug. Or a sloth. I just noticed that lots of words which start with "sl" have negative connotations. Besides slug and sloth, there's slimy, slick, sleazy, slutty, slander, sloppy, slump, slush, and of course, the slippery slope.




Back to my slothfulness. Since I got back from Boston Thursday, I've done nothing productive. I haven't even finished the first load of clothes. My floor is covered with the detritus of my trip. Flotsam and jetsam.

Maps and magazines, shoes and souvenirs and suitcases. When I went upstairs to put things in order, I saw the book I can't put down. A Prayer for Owen Meany. I've never read it and I saw it at the thrift store a few weeks ago. I started it right before my trip, and loved it. It's a rare book that makes me laugh out loud. I didn't get much time to read on the trip so when I picked it up the other night, I had to back up a little to remember where I'd left off. And now, all I want to do is read it until I get to the end. So instead of restoring some sort of order to my Enchanted Aerie, I laid down on my messy bed with my book. I'd gone to bed at 8:00 last night and read for at least two hours. Today, I only made it 20 minutes or so before I dropped the book in my face. Three times. So I laid it aside and took a nap. I rarely take naps because they usually last at least two hours and then it takes me another two hours to wake up. So when I woke up 45 minutes later today, I was pleasantly surprised. But unfortunately, I laid in bed another hour and a half, reading some more.

Finally, I drug myself downstairs and started cleaning the kitchen - the counters were covered with three days of dirty dishes. I pushed Wrinkle Release for the umpteenth time on the clothes in the dryer. And actually took them out this time. The D's gonna be hollerin' for clean underwear if I'm not careful.

But here I sit, blogging. Feeling forlorn because the only emails I've gotten are those auto-reply ones saying no one's home. And those fucking annoying gmail calendar daily reminders that say there's nothing on my agenda today. I've stopped using the calendar and can't figure out how to stop the stupid notifications. Go figure. I also spent way too long trying to figure out how to email a silly video interview of FF at Fenway. The file was too big to send and when I compressed it to a zip file, it wouldn't open. I finally had the bright idea of uploading it to my Google Docs.

Ok, here I am, putting off the inevitable. The Daddler just told me that he'd already eaten dinner - wow! He ate the salad Deb got him yesterday. I guess I'll just grab some swiss cheese and Wheat Thins (I lived on that in college) and get busy. Damn, what I wouldn't give for some Legal Sea Foods crab cakes right now. Time to pay the piper, I suppose. I'd go for a run, but a storm just blew up. Darn the luck.

Oh, Deb just called and asked if I'd been watching the Casey Anthony trial. I told her I'd watched a little in the hotel room and couldn't believe how strange it was. She said she'd been obsessed with it. I told her Mother would've been all over it. Like she had been with O.J. Deb said she thought she was channeling Mother. So I'll try to do the same thing and stop being such a lazy girl. I remember Mother telling me she got more done before noon than I did all day. And even though that might sound critical, the way she said it was very sweet, so I took it as a compliment. It's like I always say, it's not what ya' say, but how ya' say it.