Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Self, then car, in that order.

The golden touch dudes are working on my car right now (cover your ears, H). Changing oil, flushing the trannie, checking the breaks. Good stuff. I think it will be more expensive than the whole death-by-kidney episode, but a whole lot less dramatic (thank God).

I am still feeling well. The lower back is doing spiffy and things seem to be back to normal. I had nightmares about my commute last night, though. I dreamt I abandoned Eleven in at the Park 'n ride on the day of her final, while I was stuck on 92 in a traffic mess caused by the Serial Car Killer ( a vicious fiend who steals cars and leaves them impaled on telephone poles). I knew I wouldn't be able to get to her in time, so I bummed a cell phone from a nice lady and called her up (the little LCD screen even announced her name) and Mr Eleven answered and cursed me out and then he put eleven on the line and her voice was all flat and emotionless and she told me it was too late to catch the bus and she was going to miss the test.

then I woke up and realized it was all a dream, and it was weds, and not thursday.

My closet of anxiety seems to be bursting at the seams. I think the closet would manufacture things to stress about even if there was nothing to worry over.

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Poulet called to check up on me. It was just like old times. It was a treat to hear from him.

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I blog about life and soup, but mostly soup.

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