has a sick day ever been so lovingly documented?
The only thing more boring than reading someone's diary is hearing about their dreams. Lucky you! You get both! (Don't even try to click away…)
I remember some of my dreams, others are gone upon waking. One thing I have noticed lately is that when I dream about the Boy, we are still together. Last night was the first post-separation dream I can remember. In it, the Boy & I had a screaming, nasty fight. Oddly enough, when I saw him today to pick up Blake, we had a nasty fight. Who would have guessed?
The only difference is that last night I screamed, "did you enjoy fucking our adopted daughter?" (it made sense in the dream, I swear) and this afternoon my last word was, "keep polishing your halo, jackass."
Today I was home to mark, but a certain someone felt ill enough to stay home from school as well, and instead of marking abysmal senior essays I was a big hot couch for most of the day.
And to make up for a month without a camera, here are some visual aids to help with my rambling entries:
the barometric bamboo
my old houseplant, Beryl & her roommate Spidey
I think Beryl might bloom soon, which would be only the second time since all her original flowers fell off
I am a pony-tailed monster!
Labels: blake, house rich, the boy
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*