Sloth

I've done nothing for days. I don't sleep well at night and I usually get up by 7am whereupon I get immediately online and do emails with a friend. Then phone calls. Then reading. I haven't written anything for a while so I guess I'm taking a break. Since my dad's computer in Arkansas doesn't have Word, what would be the point of getting all engrossed in something? If I know myself, I will probably do just that immediately before getting on the plane.

It's almost time for my girlfriend and I to go to the Clinton pool. It's a public pool nearby and you'd have to say on the low-class side. We fit in. Our suits are old and not very fashionable. We hang our towels over the chain link fence and lower our cellulite into the cool water. We try to go on the hottest day of the year. One year we went and I lost a contact lens. Three or four scuba diving kids tried to help but it was never found. My friend and I top off our day with a visit to Dairy Queen. It's one of the highlights of the summer.

Mmmm, Dairy Queen, let's have a moment of silence for that. I adore aerated plastic ice cream, especially dipped in chocolate. I freely admit I have no taste and don't really care for Haagen-Daasz. I mean it's okay, but it doesn't compare to DQ. I wonder if they still have Dilly Bars, not that I would these days. Not being the hot sex bomb that I now am--cough cough.

But I digress. Back to my summer sloth routine: I usually try to leave the building once a day and that might be a trip to the library or the bookstore or the mall. Nothing too taxing. Grocery shopping (yes, still at Hanna-Hanna-Hanna) is my most arduous task and I bitch mightily to myself about it.

An evening's activity might be reading or anacrostic puzzles or talking on the phone or any of the above. And you know what? It's never dull.
Most of July is past now--HISSSSSSSSSSSSS.

La plume de ma tante

becky