Baked Potatoe!
The other night I had an extremely vivid and memorable dream. The colours were mind-blowingly sharp. The situation felt... right? Real? Believable, anyway. I was six months pregnant, addicted to salt-water taffy and a Murray-like manager of a local barber-shop quartet. Though, now that I think about it, I've never been six-months pregnant, I've never tried salt-water taffy (does it sound disgusting to you, too?) and I've certainly never wanted to manage a barber-shop quartet. For some reason it's conjuring mental images of midgets.
Am I embarrassed about sharing this with you? No. That's what I do. Share random, intimate facts in the vain hope that someone, somewhere, will be amused. And we bond over a shared giggle.
There's absolutely no shame in it. Just like there was no shame in sitting in a puddle and crying when all the other kids teased me about wetting my pants. I have no problem sharing with the world that I cried like a girl. I do, however, want it on the record that it was rain water not urine that soaked its way through my pants. And underwear. Do bums go wrinkly like fingers do when you've been in the bath too long?
I've been as bouncy as an infant in a clothes dryer all week (granted, it's only Wednesday), and I put it down mainly to money. Not that I've received a large, unexpected cheque or found myself a sugar-daddy. It's just that the last fortnight was horrible. I was hit by the usual rent payments, but also a 2-month phone/broadband bill (with connection fee), bill from the security company for letting me back in and a credit card bill that caught up with me (think Wii console, controller, textbooks and at one stage groceries...)
This morning I ran out of underwear and the pair I was stuck with have been giving me grief all day. But, the problem will no longer roll on - a fortnight worth of under garments (read: undies and over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders) are spinning around in the industrial sized washing machine here in my building.
Here's hoping I get some dry ones for tomorrow!
Baked Potatoe!
Am I embarrassed about sharing this with you? No. That's what I do. Share random, intimate facts in the vain hope that someone, somewhere, will be amused. And we bond over a shared giggle.
There's absolutely no shame in it. Just like there was no shame in sitting in a puddle and crying when all the other kids teased me about wetting my pants. I have no problem sharing with the world that I cried like a girl. I do, however, want it on the record that it was rain water not urine that soaked its way through my pants. And underwear. Do bums go wrinkly like fingers do when you've been in the bath too long?
I've been as bouncy as an infant in a clothes dryer all week (granted, it's only Wednesday), and I put it down mainly to money. Not that I've received a large, unexpected cheque or found myself a sugar-daddy. It's just that the last fortnight was horrible. I was hit by the usual rent payments, but also a 2-month phone/broadband bill (with connection fee), bill from the security company for letting me back in and a credit card bill that caught up with me (think Wii console, controller, textbooks and at one stage groceries...)
This morning I ran out of underwear and the pair I was stuck with have been giving me grief all day. But, the problem will no longer roll on - a fortnight worth of under garments (read: undies and over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders) are spinning around in the industrial sized washing machine here in my building.
Here's hoping I get some dry ones for tomorrow!
Baked Potatoe!