My hips ache like hell (from all the rain we've had?) and I have a pimple on my chin and my dreams were so fucking crazy I can't clear my head from them and let me just say that when you're having a dream and you keep thinking, "Please, let this be a nightmare," and the dream is about a failure of a dinner party you're having, you really, really must not want to have dinner parties.
People sitting around, trying to be polite while you're trying to figure out how to feed them, walking around with a garlic press, attempting to focus enough to make a salad dressing, realizing at the last moment that the first seating for the dinner party you had/are having ate all of the main course except for a dried-up husk of a casserole that seems strangely heavy in edamame beans- well. Sure. It's not the car-flying-off-the-bridge nightmare or the oh-my-god-what-did-I-do-with-the-baby nightmare but it's bad enough.
And I had only gotten ONE bottle of wine and these people were wine drinkers.
No. I have no dinner parties planned.
I didn't plan to have a pimple on my chin either, but there you go.
On the bright side (quite literally) the sun is shining strong again and the sky is cloudless blue and it's chilly. I'm wearing two shirts, a cashmere sweater and a jacket. At least it didn't freeze. And at least I can take a walk. The boys are coming but not until later and ay-yi-yi, I can't get moving and I keep folding myself into myself and the breeze is chill-blowing the new leaves of the Bradford pear like gauzy ruffles and the light shimmershakes like a belly dancer and my mind is like an room emptied of everything but cobwebs and I don't know how to get to the doors and windows to open them up, to begin to clear them out but I'm going to try.