In the past 40 days, I have packed, packed some more, business-tripped, moved, road-tripped, and vacationed. I also dined, visited, jogged, danced, sang, cheered, and picked up a manfriend along the way. Bring on the unpacking: bring on living in a room full of boxes. I’ve seen changes at work and lost access to my favourite home and been welcomed into a new one. I have no consistent thoughts after all this busyness. What you get are fragments.
one. My life is a circus, only not in the sexy way like Britney’s life –more in the “funhouse mirrors reflect my inner sanctum quite accurately” kind of way.
two. I had a dream last week that I had a staring contest with a bear and won. Take that, fictitious woodland creature.
three. Strangers on a plane will make fun of you, so long as they don’t realize it’s you they’re mocking. God bless Canadian Politeness.
four. I got more stressed out during last night’s episode of “Cupcake Wars” than I did during
five. Stuff. It seems important, until you have to move it all and store it all and stare at it all day. Love affair with Craigslist: commencing.
six. A spider is only as big as your lack of defences. Right?
seven. The phrase “I miss you” is about as useful as one stitch on a gaping flesh wound.
eight. 63 unread emails, an overflowing inbox, pending requests from management, and a box of unprocessed files where your chair should be. Welcome back from Vacation. Signed: Monday Morning.
nine. Can’t find your alarm clock? Get yourself a toddler, instead.
ten. I’ve often made gentle fun of those “normal” heart-shaped-eye-people that stare longingly at calendars, count days, and sigh from morning to night. Turns out, I’m normal. What a sweet tasting disappointment.