The rain has been my companion. When the sun is out, I feel forced to be smiley and go outside and leap around. Rain isn't demanding in that way. When it rains, I don't feel like I have to pretend I feel good, all rainbow-y and unicorn-y. I can play depressing music and wear my ratty bathrobe all day.
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
I'm making myself stay in bed all day. When I get a cold, it always turns into a barking cough that scares the cats. My colds are obnoxious and long and stupid. Some people scarcely wipe their noses and they make polite little sneezes. I hack and wheeze and spit. Disgusting. (Ok, I went into the garden in my pajamas and pulled weeds for a bit. I couldn't help it). And I'm blasting an artist I found, Chris Pakeda, an 'indie' folksinger type. I am playing her obsessively. So, I can. While staying in bed with juice and tea and the cats, I read part of a manuscript my friend James sent me. I want to be his literary agent and editor. I want him to lavishly praise me in his intro, he' s that good. I reviewed a midwifery exam that has been languishing for months. I'm about to compare health insurance rates (snore) because my insurance is going up TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS A MONTH, robbery, I tell you, just because I had a birthday. I don't know who I despise more, the insurance industry or BP.