I truly have exhibited to the gods that I know how to sleep, so I see no need for them to bless me with it in the middle of the afternoon while I'm trying to watch Sweet Home Alabama, or before eleven pm last night (shortly after I posted last, whenever that was...) and until 9 this morning. Perhaps they have my address transposed with Babelbabe's, she's the one who craves sleep!
Apparently this heartache is not going to dredge itself out by
- prayer, the purchase of an Easter dress, the watching of quality chick flick, or the passing of such wonderful days as
- the Jokefest
- H's birthday
- Palm Sunday
- The Drivelversary.
UGH! It's not that I hate all men, just the one who kissed me 17 years ago. Hate, actually, is a very strong word. And, not the opposite of love. Disdain, then, is what I harbor for the man who five-timed me and instead of being my prom date took the girl that warned me he would drop me for the next pretty thing.
Poetry writing may ensue...we've got to unearth this root and wash that man outta my hair!
Oh, and somehow there's no connection live with Blogger.com.