10.22.02
a plague on your house
I just told Mike that he should go as locusts this Halloween - because he's only seen once every 12 years.
11:46 a.m.
10.22.02
i can't get no satisfaction
I am a ball of electric energy in the morning. I wake up, put the CD player on random and rock out to various tunes. The musical talents can range from The Beatles, Samantha Fox, They Might Be Giants to Ricky Martin. I am not predujuced in my musical styles.
Today I was feeling especially fierce, so I pulled out this new, red shirtdress. It form fitting enough around my curvy spots, but forgiving enough around my bumpy spots in the middle. I love cotton spandex. I put on my black leather boots that come up to the knee and my sweet, ankle-length cream suede duster jacket. I looked ready to party. But to make the look mor work friendly, I put on my dark rimmed glasses.
In the car I am a rock star. I am fearless, and confident and act on impulse. I should spend the rest of my life in the car, tearing up back roads and up and down the Parkway. I would be so much happier that way.
I bought the Rolling Stones '40 Licks' CD and I love it. It's been in the CD player for the past week. In my car, I am Keith Richards. I sing back up for Mick and kick ass on the guitar.
Then I get to work and pull into the parking lot. I shatter the cool quiteness when I open my car door and ear splitting music spills out. "Hey, you, get off of my cloud...."
Then I walk into the building and everything changes. I can feel the energy escaping me, like someone letting the air out of a baloon. I sit at my desk, turn on my computer and by the time all the start up scripts finish, I am a deflated piece of latex on my ergonomic chair.
Sigh.
9:29 a.m.
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Reading
"Notes From A Small Island"
by Bill Bryson
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