(no subject)
Worked for 10 hours today....More tolerable than yesterday, though, as it was not beastly hot. I am fairly certain the heat was making me hallucinate ayer, as I was convinced that a...something...was watching me from the pine shadows as I sat weeding in the skin-charring sunshine. Something...owlish. I could've sworn that an evil bird of prey was staring at me from ground level, but it turned out to be a tree stump. Crazy, unhealthy moi! I wasn't born for such a climate. Sàlvame, Nueva Inglaterra.
I'm probably not going back to Beth's until Tuesday. By choice. I'm offering my laboring hours to dad for the next four days, because...I.Don't.Know.Why. I shouldn't feel compelled to do so; I shouldn't feel obligated to offer a damned, hopelessly wilted olive branch. Can't squelch the guilt complex.
I got bugASSbitten today...My arms are itchy and so on. And a hover fly stung me while I was weeding (for the 25000th day straight), so I pulverized the insectoid fiend. {Sarah says find pink stuff. We have no pink stuff! Just pepto-bismol or however the hell one spells it...and that won't help bug bites.}
You know...doing such a repetitive task for so long a period of time (ie. weeding at Beth's) really loosens my grip on my own thoughts. It's sort of the same phenomenon as getting a song stuck in one's head, but...more like trance-driven themes instead of songs. I satisfactorily explained the universe and existence to myself the other day...but I can't remember the minutiae of my theory. That springboarded to a wonderful line worthy of a Romantic novel. (Capital "Romantic", chaps. As in Brontë era, not supermarket shmutz.) The line was connected to my random theologico-science, but I can't remember it either. Lost my manic epiphany.
Yes, I am losing my mind.
Love,
Jordan
P.S. Trevor is sometimes funny.
I'm probably not going back to Beth's until Tuesday. By choice. I'm offering my laboring hours to dad for the next four days, because...I.Don't.Know.Why. I shouldn't feel compelled to do so; I shouldn't feel obligated to offer a damned, hopelessly wilted olive branch. Can't squelch the guilt complex.
I got bugASSbitten today...My arms are itchy and so on. And a hover fly stung me while I was weeding (for the 25000th day straight), so I pulverized the insectoid fiend. {Sarah says find pink stuff. We have no pink stuff! Just pepto-bismol or however the hell one spells it...and that won't help bug bites.}
You know...doing such a repetitive task for so long a period of time (ie. weeding at Beth's) really loosens my grip on my own thoughts. It's sort of the same phenomenon as getting a song stuck in one's head, but...more like trance-driven themes instead of songs. I satisfactorily explained the universe and existence to myself the other day...but I can't remember the minutiae of my theory. That springboarded to a wonderful line worthy of a Romantic novel. (Capital "Romantic", chaps. As in Brontë era, not supermarket shmutz.) The line was connected to my random theologico-science, but I can't remember it either. Lost my manic epiphany.
Yes, I am losing my mind.
Love,
Jordan
P.S. Trevor is sometimes funny.