My bed looks scrumptious. Goodnight.
Morning shifts that end at 10 am are supposed to mean that I have the whole day to do anything I want but what really happens is I go home and sleep all afternoon.
In second grade my school had me take that test to see if I was a “gifted student” and I failed it and like I’m STILL bummed about that.
❝ Being born a woman is my awful tragedy. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.
My dad posted this photo of he and my mom at a White Castle in 1985 and my mom commented on it saying, “Yeah, that’s how we roll.”
I got dressed and then realized I look like Kim Possible and if you thought this post was going to end with me saying, “so now I have to change clothes” you are wrong.