Oh, lord, these people are crazy. Cah-ray-zee. But I did manage to both be poked by an underwire and cram said underwire back into the bra it belongs to and get it sewn back into place.
I should open a road-side stand where I do quicky bra repairs for women in need.
My dad “needed” me to go to Walgreen’s with him. On the way into Walgreen’s, he asked, “Don’t you want to have these troubles?” and I didn’t know what he meant. And then he said, “I don’t have any parishioners anymore. So there’s no one I care what they think. You should have a baby. Don’t worry about getting married.”
Well… yep. There you go.
I hear it’s as miserably hot in Tennessee as it is here in Illinois, but I am ready to be home. I’m familied out for sure. It’s good to see everyone, but, whew, there’s just a lot of togetherness and people behaving like they were born in barns.
And I miss my dog and my bed. I miss the way the Butcher and I are not constantly squabbling and grouchy.
And I miss writing. Even though I was trying to describe my novel to my aunt and uncle and I just had this minute where I was like “Oh my god, it does suck. It sucks. No one will ever publish it. I can’t even explain it.”
But what can you do? I think I’m planting black hollyhocks at my grandma’s house this afternoon.
Tiny Cat Pants 