1999-10-16

A.M.

Saturday morning and I've been up for close to an hour now. Disgusting.

Remember your first existential crisis? I do. I'm fortunate enough to have it captured in writing somewhere, but A - I'm too lazy to go dig it out, and B - most assuredly it's dreadful to read.

I think now my existential crisis pangs come in the form of vaguely erotic dreams involving a certain patchouli-dipped ex-boyfriend. Then I wake up and realize my husband doesn't even wear aftershave. Go ahead, Dr. Freud, read into that...

Tonight: Ad Frank's birthday at the Temple Bar. He always claims he doesn't want anything.

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Impossigirl

lisamcc at 09:03:04

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