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Thursday, December 04, 2003

missing, one ordinary self

There is a short story in a compilation called Irish Girls About Town called "The Twenty-Eighth Day". Most anyone, especially women, can probably figure out based just on the title what it's about, using a bit of creative thought. And that is so ME today -- except, because God must have extra lessons in humility and patience to teach me, this day is actually the twenty-fourth day. Yeah, don't you wish you were me. As for me, I am just wishing that tomorrow would get here so that I can get over being this crabby b***h with a tension headache that goes all the way to my shoulders and a raging case of Social Anxiety Disorder (not helped by the cluster of spots on my cheek that looks, I swear, exactly like Orion's belt and sword. And I never get spots on my cheeks, only my chin, upper lip, and forehead. What is UP with this?) and a few stray pounds of bloat hanging around, and change back into my ordinary self. My ordinary self isn't perfect -- she's got a moderately low yell threshold and she's pretty lazy and not very good-looking overall -- but today, I really, really miss her. Come back, Ordinary Self. Please come back.

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