Ms. Mojo Risin
Yeah, I keep looking at myself in the mirror and seeing Beach Bunny Barbie looking back at me. I really ought to get a pic at some point. Of course, I probably look hair-wise like I did the last time any of you saw me, so you might not really get how far I've come. Which is good, really. It's like missing the whole rehab stint, and just seeing your friend again after they're already all sane again and no longer living in a dumpster, smoking banana peels.
Also, Jimmy and I have lost our Sleep Mojo. (Temporarily, I'm sure.) We used to be really good at sharing our diminutive (compared to us) queen-sized bed. But, we've been on staggered sleep schedules for such an ongoing period of time now that I've gone from being weirded out when he's not there to, "Argh! What's this loathsome, heat-emitting lump in my bed?! ... Oh. Hi, honey." For example, the night before last, he slept on the futon in the den. When I asked why, (he occasionally does this when I have a head cold - says I snore or something - balderdash!), he said that he'd tried to find purchase in the bed, but I wouldn't make room for him. I felt bad, and said, "Don't take that crap! Don't give up! Make my ass move, like I do to you!" Words of a non-forward-thinking doofus, you might say, and you'd be right. Because last night, when I felt him climbing into the bed, I had a half-awake flash that went, "Oh nooooooo, what's he doooooing? Stay up longer, you daft fool! I'm not in REM sleep yet!" Sure enough, he ended up in roughly the center of the bed, and he was putting out about a million BTUs. I went from being under the sheet and a light blanket, comfortably dozing, to being under just the edge of the sheet, (more out of sheer stubbornosity than anything), with the fan on, and sweating my ass off. Yuck. I say this round goes to him, but he'd better look sharp. There are renegotiations on the horizon.
Also, Jimmy and I have lost our Sleep Mojo. (Temporarily, I'm sure.) We used to be really good at sharing our diminutive (compared to us) queen-sized bed. But, we've been on staggered sleep schedules for such an ongoing period of time now that I've gone from being weirded out when he's not there to, "Argh! What's this loathsome, heat-emitting lump in my bed?! ... Oh. Hi, honey." For example, the night before last, he slept on the futon in the den. When I asked why, (he occasionally does this when I have a head cold - says I snore or something - balderdash!), he said that he'd tried to find purchase in the bed, but I wouldn't make room for him. I felt bad, and said, "Don't take that crap! Don't give up! Make my ass move, like I do to you!" Words of a non-forward-thinking doofus, you might say, and you'd be right. Because last night, when I felt him climbing into the bed, I had a half-awake flash that went, "Oh nooooooo, what's he doooooing? Stay up longer, you daft fool! I'm not in REM sleep yet!" Sure enough, he ended up in roughly the center of the bed, and he was putting out about a million BTUs. I went from being under the sheet and a light blanket, comfortably dozing, to being under just the edge of the sheet, (more out of sheer stubbornosity than anything), with the fan on, and sweating my ass off. Yuck. I say this round goes to him, but he'd better look sharp. There are renegotiations on the horizon.