Today's To Do List

Cold, cold and the blood runs through me like molasses or something slow and sticky. The sun shines down hard but its light is ineffectual in the heating department and the thermostat says Replace Battery.
What? How does one DO that?
Oh my god, I just figured it out and did it. 
Okay. My work here is done.
Good-bye.

Not really.

I am making lists in my head. They go something like this:

Lose twenty pounds in next twenty days.
Buy silk underwear.
Buy Kindle.
Get hair done.
Get eye surgery.
Look like this:

Shitfire.
I wish.
I saw part of Laurel Canyon the other night which starred the amazing Frances McDormand. The acting of almost everyone in the movie annoyed the fucking crap out of me. Look- I am not an actor and do not pretend to be one but come ON! people. Frances, though, was amazing as she always is. It was worth wading through the crappity crap just to watch her.
Plus, I want that hair. I have that hair. It just has not been revealed by the proper stylist.
I want that body but I'm too fucking lazy.
I do not, however, want leather jeans. Who came up with THAT idea? I don't even really enjoy sitting on a leather couch.
Well.

So. Let's see. What else is on the list?

Figure out what to cook for supper. (NO turkey or poultry of any sort.)
Make bed.
Clean toilets.
Meet Bill Murray.
Finish novel.
Get it published.
Convince Larry David to give me role on Curb Your Enthusiasm in which I can swear like a sailor.
Clean floor around toilets.

Here's something I was thinking about the other night:
You know that old saying- don't judge a man until you've walked a mile in his shoes?

I think that might be the truest thing in the world.


You know that other old saying- I cried because I had no shoes until I saw a man with no feet?

Don't tell that one to an eight-year old. It will freak the shit out of them.

All right. Obviously I have a lot to do today.
I might even have lunch with Keith Richards. We'll drink vodka and discuss our grandchildren and laugh until the tiny bells we have entwined in our hair tinkle and our mascara and eye-liner will run down our faces.

Our perfect, deeply-wrinkled old faces.

Be well, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon