Welcome To My Bed

Happy Monday.

This song turns up on the playlist at work way too frequently for me not to mention it.

It makes me think of Maggie and Bookwood and the summer before I went away to college. There has been a lot of talk of moving somewhere new at the end of the road--I have no idea where I'll want to be once school's spat me out, but I'll keep you posted.

My favorite glasses are lost (luckily, I bought a new pair already, the same frames in red). There is not enough time to write (but I am getting things done anyway). The best living keeps happening in parentheses.

Last night, we drank a lot of what Wayne refers to as "bro beer of choice" and talked over and across and through each other until we were all too tired and tied up in knots to keep at it any longer. I got a lot of fist bumps. I guess that means my life is going alright.

We sort of/kind of have internet in the house now, except maybe the modem is broken, or maybe it's the cable jack. There are a lot of complicated things we could do to figure out which. I don't know what any of them are, but Jericha seems to be certain it will all turn out alright.

I have to turn in a stack of poems to my new advisor this morning. The old advisor has not gone anywhere, but her back-up is now a poet and poetry professor. I'm not sure how I completed half of my thesis with no feedback from the academy on my poetry. Now there are twenty or so pages queued up in my printer and I'm not even sure any of those poems belongs in my manuscript at all. I suppose this is what the whole advisory system is for.