So. Here I am. Today is the first day since the move that I'm home alone.
*Cue dancing in my underwear montage*
Phew! That was fun. Anyway, now I have a choice—two pills, if you will. One pill will make me do more unpacking/ organizing/ cleaning. The other pill will allow me to shut everything out and write. Even without my magic charms up over the desk.
I know which pill I'm taking, because there's a short story that's been humming in my head for weeks, but I don't like to force short stories. Like my poetry, they always end up stale when forced. But last night, the story started telling itself to me. Of course it stopped talking right about when I got to the PLOT but oh well. I guess that's where the sweat and blood come in, huh?
But before I get all go-go-gadget writer on you, I wanted to share this exchange with my mom. She called the other day to check up on me. Even though she's been really sick with a fever and MIGHT have Lyme Disease from a brief hike in the woods of Vermont when my parents came to visit this summer before we moved.
Melissa pointed out how terribly ironic it would be if our mom left Connecticut, the birth place of Lyme Disease, so to speak, only to get the disease herself in Vermont.
Frowns all around. I hope she's better soon!
In the meantime, in a break in her fever, she called me. To see if I was okay. Moms are the best, right? This is how it went down:
MOM: Hi. I just called to see how you're doing.
ME: What about you? Are you okay?
MOM: Oh, I'm fine. (Coughs weakly, sounds terrible). I called to hear about you.
[And this is where I started to morph into a little kid again. I began to remember all the aches and pains of the last few days. I was already planning to write a funny post about it, even. So I took a deep breath and prepared to stun her with a devastating pronouncement—the perfect metaphor for how I've been feeling about another move.]
ME: Actually, I'm so tired that I think I actually got a canker sore on the tip of my TONGUE! Isn't that crazy???
MOM: I hate when that happens.
ME: You've...you've had one before?
MOM: Oh sure.
ME: But, it hurts all the time. I didn't even know you could GET a canker sore there.
MOM: Sure you can. So how's the unpacking going?
So much for impressing my mom with my pain and suffering! I had to laugh at myself over that. Curt has heard many complaints about my canker sore and the bruises all over my body from moving and the headaches from stress, which are a little gift I like to give myself every so all of the time.
Seriously, though. A Canker sore on your tongue really hurts! Especially because you can't help but constantly run your tongue along your teeth, thereby making the canker sore hurt even more.
Anyway the Pity Party is over. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. Well, actually I hope you DO stay here, it's just that it'll now be an Awesome Party of Awesomeness with admittedly weaker drinks but much better music.
Time to put on my big girl pants (re: get dressed) and write!