569

What have you done, my little spark?
Cursing my name ’cause again I put you out
Falling apart, you tell yourself you are
Dreaming only of the ones who never dream of you

I’m your disappearing one…

The phone rang this afternoon and it was my mother again, using that calling card that doesn’t show her real name or number on the ID, but I know it’s her. I missed the call, but as soon as I checked the history, I knew. I also knew I couldn’t bring myself to call her back. Not tonight. I think I’ve expressed how I love her, but the Gaviscon I’ve been eating like candy for two days now would indicate that I really don’t need that added stress right now, and she does add the stress. She can pour it on like thick sweet frosting on a cake, but next thing you know you’ve got the sticky stuff all over you.

Spent way too much time sleeping this weekend, and still feel exhausted. Completely drained, and every thought of tomorrow just makes it worse… save the one. The curiosity about the flack I’ll get for the crank calls Friday night–I’ve been dreaming of how it might play out.

It occurs to me.. I’m going to miss Engineer’s Cheese day, Tuesday, and with the trip JT and I have planned for next weekend, I’m going to miss Cheese Posse Friday, too. Magoo will still be out of town, so it looks like just Skittums and Stacy, and I expect that Stacy will have a lot she’ll want to relate about her SoCal trip.

Oh well. After this past Friday, or rather, the resulting scolding about this past Friday, I can’t say I’m looking forward to another one so fast. As Magoo and I discussed, the Posse needs a new plan for after cheese that will result in the four of us getting home safely. And Skittums, well, I suggest that you don’t get into the car with anybody else who you have to HELP to the car, but of course, I guess you were too drunk yourself to realize. We’re intrigued by your boyfriend drama, but moreover, horrified at the thought that you could have easily died.

Perhaps I’m just full of depression and guilt and all those things that come over me when we both have the sweet taste of cinnamon and icing in our mouths and all I can think about is how sweet a kiss would be at that moment, but the moment is lost and wasn’t nearly as monumental as my mind had built it up to be…

and perhaps I just need that hot shower I’ve been dreaming about all day…

and perhaps I just want to go back to sleep to see if the dreams are half as sweet as I recall them to be…