It's as beautiful a morning as you've ever seen here in Lloyd, Florida this morning. I mean, flat-out call Ripley's beautiful. Call Hollywood and tell 'em to send a film crew beautiful. Make your soul jump and shout beautiful.
I am so tired.
Last night went fine. It was fine. Fine, fine, fucking fine.
I just felt so flat.
I didn't bring down the house nor did I pull over the set. I only tripped over the step-down place once.
Then when I got home I couldn't sleep. Could not sleep until around three. And woke up in time to do this and get back to the Opera House to set tables. I feel guilty as hell because I should already have my spring garden in. The potatoes and peas and more greens and onions. Should have been done by Valentine's Day.
I'm having house dreams again. In the one I was having this morning, I somehow had a huge house that was still filled with someone else's stuff. People were trying to come in and buy the stuff. I was paying people to come in and help me organize. The "yard" was a huge field surrounding the house and I was overwhelmed at the prospect of making it into what I consider a fine yard. Trees and flowers and a garden. Flat, planted fields. A dry pool. Ugly as homemade sin.
Why am I having house dreams? Moving dreams? I could hardly be more established than I am here, right here. Am I about to die? If so, dear god make it quick and painless and IN MY SLEEP, LET ME GET SOME SLEEP!
Oh yes, let me get some sleep.
Well. Time to go back to Monticello and set tables for tonight's pre-performance dinner. I don't need to eat breakfast because at two a.m. I ate half a strawberry-rhubarb crisp. It worked, too, I fell asleep pretty quick after that. A tiny miracle occurred in that I was so cold and I moved to the guest room because I knew I was keeping Mr. Moon awake and I took the big comforter which he hates anyway and the small dog and when I got in the guest bed I said, "Zeke, please come get under the covers with me," and he did. He snorgled his way down under all of the sheets and quilts and settled down behind my knees. He hasn't done that in forever.
It's a beautiful morning. I'm going to drive to Monticello and honey, I am taking a nap this afternoon. No. Not a nap. A night's sleep Part II.
Truvy is on her feet all night long, dispensing witticisms, doing hair, and hugging her friends. She is tired. She had weird dreams all night.
Here we go. Here we go. Here we go.
Life as we know it, life as we make it up, life on this beautiful day in Lloyd, Florida, whether we are tired or not, flat or not, dream-ridden or not, here we go, dreaming of flat fields where our spring garden should be coming up already.