ten minutes to write
...but maybe I'll come back later. Who am I kidding, I won't come back later, we are going to see the Features (!) tonight w/ the Whigs so this is a ten-minute free write. The unfortunate part of that is how much there is to say! Charlottesville was intense, intense low followed by intense high, lots of Dottie, I thought, but it turned out to only be two days, TWO DAYS with my mother and already I go crazy; I took a bottle of lotion from her. I guess you could say I stole it. It's from that Perricone dude and has been in her bathroom upstairs for over three years, since she can't get upstairs, and in a way it was my own personal challenge to her to quit the bitchin' and get up outta that wheelchair and WALK. It was only hip replacement surgery, for god's sake. I mean, GAWD. It's as if she likes it down there. Imagine that. Being waited on, pushed around, helped into and out of places, and you don't even have to get up to go to the bathroom if you don't feel like it. Cashing my $500 check to you without even asking if I'd like to wait til payday, so that my bank account is empty until Friday while you talk about your secret stash, hidden from your husband, thanks to George selling the beach house to pay for my college education (which never had to happen since deadbeat Dad showed up), to the tune of $10K. Ah the irony that the woman who won't stand up out of her wheelchair needs getaway money. But if you asked me, I'd take my own two legs and feet over $10K, any day. Nevermind that both are a little battered and bruised from being whisked off into a speaker from a drunk guy at the wedding who I didn't even know, until afterward.