2:21 p.m. - 2003-04-21
I'm not a poet. Try as I might, poetry doesn't flow through these veins. Every now and then, though, I have a bought of the sillies and can't help myself. Like last night. After two weeks of puppy sitting at my Mom's, I returned to my apartment, and breathed a sigh of relief. Home. Its getting there.
I missed my place so much while I was gone. I think it was lonely too. We sat together, my apartment and I, drank wine, did laundry, aired the place out and watched a great flick -- How Stella Got Her Groove Back. If anyone saw it, please tell me if she stuck with The Boy. I fell asleep with only a half hour or so to go, and am dying to know.
The family went out for dinner yesterday. We went to this great historic hotel in West Virginia that overlooks the Potomac. We were seated on an old converted balcony that groaned when we moved, and was pitched so badly, my chair was lodged against the window, and my sister-in-law had to wedge her foot against the table leg to keep from sliding sideways. Spooky, really.
No big plans this week. There are a couple of things that I want to buy for my place. I need a plant stand, new pots and pans (I got mine in a box for 10 dollars - generic brand - and they smell funny when I cook with them. Like burning plastic. That can't be good, right? They are metal. I think... Not supposed to cook with plastic on the stove top.
So I'm having dinner on my own tonight. My Mom is in quarentine because she has a fever and a bronchial infection, and the doctor has to do tests for SARS. He thinks is bronchitus, but since there were Asian passengers on the ship, where she started getting sick, he's doing tests. So much for tuna patties at Mom's. My favorite meal. You get to use LOTS of ketchup. (Sorry Timmay. I know it goes against the cheflet grain)
I'm off to the enslavement ritual. Can you believe I'm PMSing right now?
Everything is so groovy!