Every day I get up and face the world with the best of intentions, I want to be a good girl, but temptation is everywhere and jesus, people wear my ass out. I tried to get myself into a nice mellow meditative mode this morning but right about the time I snuggled into my favorite big-old reading chair with my nice hot cup of joe and started thinking about all the good things I have in my life and all the people I love and wish blessings on, my cell phone rang and Randy told me he had fallen down the stairs of his front porch last night and woke up covered in blood, oh, and by the way, he can see bone through one of his wounds. Miss Otis is wearing my ass out. So after I was sufficiently satisfied that he is okay, I proceeded to scold him and then he called me "Mom" (not good) and admitted he was totally shitfaced when his buddies dropped him off after a crawl through one of the local really icky dive bars last night, I really let him have it. Miss Otis huffily replied: "Girl, you cannot tell me you have never gone out one night intending to have a great time and woke up the next morning with your hair all over the place, eyeliner smeared halfway down your face and three-quarters of you covered in blood..." I started to tell him that I had not, but then I remembered that I had. But it was the '80s for chrissake. And besides, it wasn't my blood, it was my boyfriend's. And he has since forgiven me.
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