Sun-Fever

It is supposed to get down (get down, y'all!) to 67 degrees tonight.
I told you that fall was approaching.

This heat.

I am blaming everything on it.
This...whatever I have.
A bug. My gallbladder. One or more of four or five major organs or body-systems having cancer.
You know.
Or, it's none of that. It's the fucking heat. Which has made me vulnerable to whatever it is that is fucking me up.

I think it could be an inflamed gall bladder. Seriously. I have been eating like shit.

So tonight I made (and it is proof that I feel better in that I cooked anything) brown and wild rice and chicken with vegetables, and salad and oat bran muffins.

It's almost done and Mr. Moon is still in my bathroom which is in a state of chaos you cannot believe, working on the plumbing.

According to the Facebook, a film that I was in is going to be shown at Graumen's Chinese Theater. This is so far away from my definition of reality that I can't even begin to process that fact.

Maybe I have an ulcer.

Maybe it's the heat.

Oh summer, thou hast taken its toll.

I'll go shut up the chickens and then it will be time for supper.

God. I can't wait to go to bed. I wonder if I'll dream of Brad Pitt again tonight, staying with me and my family to hide out from the media.

I hope not. It was so stressful, trying to keep people from knowing he was in my house. Poor man.
But I would never tell. I am THAT sort of friend.

Yours truly...Ms. Moon