Cold cold cold cold cold.
Mmm. Shoulder sore. Mmm. Did I practice enough for tomorrow's lesson? I didn't do the mouth-vibraty bits, she's going to yell at me for it. Well, giggle at me sternly at least.
Mmm. Darren's birthday tonight. Don't knoew him much. Was supposed to pick Dave up from work and head straight there but the timing got mangled and we're one Cristal short, who I think is on her way home.
Mmm. I shouldn't have eaten that cheese. My esophagus is trying to convince me that it feels greasy.
Sydney, the large yellow bird is looking at me.
The laundry's half done, three loads, half the damned household.
Sydney's still looking at me.
I'm a colossal bundle of nerves. If I get this job, I'm in way over my head and my nerves are going to be singing a better soprano than I.
If I don't, well, I don't know what happens.
Dave just got home.
I'm still sitting in the dining room vibrating.
Dave is talking about his focus group. I love watching him talk about his work. His hair is getting just a little long and the front bits curl down to lick his eyebrows.
He has beautiful eyebrows.
I love the way his mouth moves, and great words come spilling out digging fine claws into my brain to pull it into motion.
My sentences are short and my breath shorter.
I bought a new pair of socks today, on the way back from dropping Dave off at the subway.
They have fine grey stripes.
Next week I will look back on this distraction. Either wistfully at this moment of ignorance, or...
Well, probably just that.
Tomorrow I will worry about the trip to Montreal this weekend, about how there is never enough time to see everyone, how each time I look down the nose of that long drive I remember yet another face that I would love to hold much closer than arm's length from me.
A week. Two, even. Eventually.
Tomorrow I will run around the house looking for a spare blank tape for singing class, maybe I will have the gumption to ask Heather about a classical choir.
Tomorrow I will try to outdo my warmup before driving out there, without overly tiring my abs, so that when I walk into class I'll hit that D-Sharp on the first try.
Tomorrow I might go climbing, or I might just be thankful that at least I haven't sprained both ankles in order to do further damage to my shoulder with crutches.
Like a couple of fellows I know did not too long ago.
Halfhearted giggles are giggles nonetheless.
Some days I still go looking for my words. There is a list for tomorrow, emails to write, cover letters to wrap my brain around, words to give to people I'v ebeen meaning to offer them to for weeks now...
Research to do for a friend and his network, so much.
There is always, so much to do.
In some way amidst all this quivering, I am painfully aware of how glorious that is.
Juggling the contents of my brainpan to keep that in the forefront is the tricky bit.
The real question is, does random acidic rearrangement help or hinder such noble pursuits?