I spoke to my grandmother this morning, who informed me that not only did her sister die this weekend, but that also the hurricane knocked a basketball hoop onto her car, she locked herself out of my mother's house in the rain, and the storm surge from the hurricane backed up her pipes and her house was filled with sewage.
The lady is not having a good few days of it.
I woke up in the middle of the night convinced that there was a pile of snakes next to my bed. This takes my recent sleeping issues to a whole new level. Normally, I wake up in the middle of the night convinced that my refrigerator has stopped working. Someone keeps calling from New York, but they come up on my caller ID as "Cerberus" so I'm afraid to answer the phone. I think I'm losing it just a little bit, but that's only common sense when you're getting phone calls from a three-headed dog, I feel.
He never leaves a message.
And you know how I'm always trying not-very-hard to forget about this guy? (He once informed me that he liked me for my brain but preferred my best friend for her body. He's a real winner.) I heard from someone this weekend who also knows him. Seattle may be a small town, but the rest of the world isn't that much bigger.
I'm not having a good few days of it either, and I alternately feel about three feet tall and about seventy miles wide. Toby always tells me that it's impossible to hide if I keep jumping up and down, and that's probably true. The only days-or-nights that I don't have planned this week are tomorrow and Saturday. Anyone want to join me at the dive bar down the street? I mean it. You all know where to find me.
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