Tuesdays...

...don't necessarily go where or when you want them to.

I have been toying with my anger over the last couple of weeks or whatever. You know, sort of holding it up and trying to figure out what to do with it, putting it in nice clothes, finding it a pleasant scent to wear, sprinkling glitter over the little roiling mass, and trying hard to find toes to paint...with a notable lack of success. It's a pretty recalcitrant little bugger, and can't make up its mind whether it'd rather lurk in corners scowling or jump around howling. I think I've finally made it comb what short, spiky hair it has, however, and soon I hope for even more positive results.

Now I'm going back to sleep for an hour. Rubbing aloe vera into a severe sunburn at a bit before eight in the morning is, while actually fairly pleasant (except for the whole 'causing pain while helping' thing, of course), still definitely an interruption of sleep.

What's that noise?

I think it's the sound of resolution, something like a pleasant, warm humming with the slight undertone of a bell ringing softly.

My anger-babysitting stint is finally done with, for which I am duly grateful.

I realized recently that I have actually fulfilled my New Year's resolution for this year, which had to do with dentistry (about which the less said the better). I'm moderately certain that this may, in fact, have been the first and only time that I've actually made one in a serious mental state. Previously I have either made very silly resolutions or refused to do so out of sheer willfulness. I find this (mysteriously) rather interesting.

Anyhow, this time the mood is completely accurate, and so I am going to go EAT.
Good evening, my friends. Things are going well enough that I'd like to propose a toast.

But what shall we praise, on this night of breezes and cooling cement?

To respect, let us drink to that.

To respect, then, and to love, in all its myriad faces.