Mm, this morning was MUCH better than yesterday morning. After rewarding My slave for the wonderful orgasm I had last night, I braced myself for the hectic office. And oh, is it hectic! And yet, I feel like I’m getting stuff done, making headway, you know? I don’t feel as overwhelmed as I thought I would upon walking in here. One thing at a time, I just keep reminding myself of that.
I had dinner with Dad last night, it’s so great to have him around, he’ll be here for a month! But I feel bad when I’m not there at night, as if I’m somehow leaving him alone, somehow abandoning him to suffer my cats in my absence. I’ll have to stay there more nights this month than I’m used to, which will probably be good for me in some ways. We’ll be moving upstairs soon, I will need to clean and pack and organize. Ooh, organize.
After dinner, I went over to M.s.’s and saw Woody Allen and Diane Keaton in Annie Hall. Good, funny, realistic. I can dig it. So, I just received my math book. That’s right, I’m taking a MATH class. This ain’t calculus, dearies, though I took that back in high school. Soon, I’ll be calculating in my head, seeing formulas and such in simple day-to-day activities. Just like in the movie, Pi. Alright, I’ll come clean – I’d be happy if I could learn enough to stop counting on my fingers.
I’m very excited about this weekend! It’s a big one. For the first time in two years, I will not be going to Coachella (wah!), but after seeing the lineup, I’m sure that I’m not missing much. Man, that first year I went was psychotic, the hotel resort, the musicians hanging at the bar, the drugs… sigh. Then, last year, a slightly different crowd, bonding with new folks, great music, a day in the sunshine, wonderful company, the drugs… good times, good times. But, alas, the festival is not why I am so excited for this weekend, no!
Friday night, I’m taking my father out, something I can’t write yet, because from time to time, I think he reads me, and I want to keep the surprise. Speaking of which, Dad, again, if you happen upon this, all this talk and poetry about sex and slaves, it’s fantasy fodder for writing. RIGHT. Your daughters are clean and good and hardly naughty at all. Well, three of them are. But that doesn’t mean the fourth is ME. We all remember the fruit-fly ratio, right? One out of four. Hee hee. So, special night out with Dad, and he’s going to shit his pants when he sees where I’m taking him. That’s a figure of speech, in case you thought my father had weak bowels or something.
Then Saturday, M.s.’s friend is coming in from Seattle, and the rest of the weekend through Monday will be spent having a blast in her honor. Oh, yeah. From artsy gatherings with people from different walks of the art world, to Quiz Night, to Earth Day concerts, and I’m sure so much more! But what the fuck am I doing writing about the weekend already? It’s only TUESDAY! Which is both a relief and a disappointment. Relief, because I have more time to finish this paperwork that’s due on Friday. Disappointment because… well, you know… all these great plans!
Enough, enough, I’m rambling. Back to my paperwork and the reality of today (which I will remind myself, is glorious).
-Barbarella
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