We had such a great time in New York. Now we hafta go to Tucson and I am being a big fat crybaby about it. Well, I haven't actually cried yet, but I probably will before we actually get all the shit in the suitcases.
I feel exactly like the creature at right: scrunched-up, kicking and screaming, just miserable.
It's only two weeks. Plus one day. I know, I know, what am I whining about?
Pain, that's what. Mom will ignore us while talking to us continuously, Dad is completely out of it, it's going to suck.
But c'mon, this is ridiculous. It's not like I'm going to be subjected to the Dickhead Cheney catalogue of "enhanced interrogation techniques."
I don't know whether to berate myself for being such a baby, or just wallow in self-pity. I'm sure there's some sage advice to be found in psychological or Buddhist books that are scattered around the house, but I don't feel like getting it together enough to try to feel better. Obviously, I want to be miserable or I would be packing now instead of blogging.
What do you recommend at this time, gentle reader?
2 comments:
remember that you and i get to play all friday afternoon. (-; that's making me smile.
here's my suggestion: stay with your body.
now, then, didn't even need to pack buddhist books, didja?
my sympathies, honestly. just remember the post-mortem hosting others plan, ok?
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