Welcome To My Bed

Stranded in New England, in need of sing-alongs.

This is why I cannot wait tables for the rest of my life. Holidays are difficult (if not impossible) to get coverage for, so you end up biting the bullet and being the awful daughter who calls from far away and tries to mask her crying while she's on the phone with her mother but fails miserably and no one knows what to say so you hang up and cry some more and then feel like a mess for sitting in you living room cry so early in the morning. Whew. Or something like that.

So. Happy Mother's Day internet. I hope you are spending it well, hugging and drinking mimosas somewhere sunny, with family or at least thinking of them. Maybe not so down in the dumps as I am.

I sang this song in the car with Kaitlin on of the last times I was home, and it made me feel better. I am singing it now, and it's helping a little bit.



And this one I used to sing in the stairwell at AS 220 this summer, and it is like peanut butter crackers and a spiked mug of hot chocolate for me, which is to say, comfort food to curl into the couch with. Erick, who would noodle through it on his guitar, is all the way far away in Greensboro, NC indefinitely. Sometimes I wish America was smaller so that the people I love didn't have to be so off in the distance all the time.