All along the clock tower

Oh, Jimi Hendrix would not be proud of that entry title. 😉

I’ve decided to have my mail forwarded to my perch atop the clock tower. And all I want for Christmas is more ammo.

What can I say about this past week except that it is ovah? The most brilliant thing that came out of my mouth, after someone pissed me RIGHT the fuck off, was “If she were a rapper, her name would be T-Wat.”

I even attempted to pay said person some (albeit undeserved) thanks. Said individual took great pride in NOT doing the favor and making someone else, who had better things to do, do it.

But before we think Goddess ain’t happy, behold the Best Morning Ever. (Not to be confused with the show “Best Week Ever,” at least, not before its pre-sucking days.) I had the house to myself for the first time in 14 months. Fourteen months!

What did I do? I danced, I sang, I cooked, I hung out in my scandalous gutchies and I left my bedroom door open. Like a grown-up!

Am all dressed up and ready to go out now. Don’t want the memory of when I was happy (ah, more than 14 months ago) to be sullied any further.

But at least I remember. And it’s why I will never, ever give up hope of getting back to that feeling again.

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