Tonight, when I need my insomnia, it has finally deserted me. I am lonely (an existential thing, not a lack of loving sweet friends thing cause I have those in spades, saw several of them tonight, and I don’t have enough time to be with all of them as much as I want.) I am exhausted. I need to get a lot done before heading out for my trip this weekend. I want to leave the house clean and peaceful, I have no choice but to a) get all the crap out of my car and b) get crap selected and packed into the car. I want to ‘just quickly run up) a couple itsy bitsy baby quilts for Courtney’s cousin’s teeny weeny 26-week twins, who decided to come much more quickly than their September due date. And I am so tired.

My high school best friend is just as deliciously mean as ever and I love her so much and I can’t wait to see her. She’s bad, bad, bad. Her little sis just had the baby (out of wedlock, the only way to do it). She announced to her extremely loving, sweet, and clean living mother that she’s through with men and it’s women only for her from here on out. And we’ve connived to make her brother my second husband and make me his third wife, which is gonna be tough cause I identify and empathise with his second and current wife in many ways. But they’ve given up on him having any kids, and my childbearing years are almost over, right? But if I lived with him I’d probably be sick of him too. The everyday magic I expect… Feh. Maybe we could just have a baby together. His wife’s too old… I could have my freedom AND my baby and he could have his beloved wife and his baby. Don’t people do that sort of thing all the time? Still, I have this horrible fear of abandonment and fear the reality that my marriage isn’t working out and so could I never contribute to the abandonment of someone else or the demise of someone else’s marriage. So as good as it sounded…

I gotta figure something out quick. I will soon be older than her mom was when she thought she was going into the change but had surprise baby Kell instead, who now has her own surprise baby.

And I wonder if they’ll let me get in the tanning bed they keep in the garage. (You might be a redneck if… but don’t forget I pride myself on it.)My mother said the tanning bed would cook my ovaries, but I’m not using them right now. And I gotta tone down these varicose veins and stretchmarks posthaste. Skinny legs are not sexy legs, trust me.