Mr S forced me out of bed this morning to head downtown. I reaaaally didn't want to go. I'm amazed at myself sometimes. I like to consider myself a curious individual, yet fatigue, apathy and not wanting to seem stupid squash this quality until I'm a mush of melted cheese in front of the tv, watching shows I have no interest in.
Mr S loved the salad. He eats everything like it's been weeks, not hours, since he last ate.
Made our way downtown. Long line for the bus - like definition of long, long:
The snow was drifting down like perfectly timed confetti, tossed by stage hands from the rafters of a fire hazard theatre. I miss being backstage - the gloom in the wings; the hush of watching the other actors on stage; being as quiet as possible with every word, every step, every rustle of skirt; the fear that gently strangles your throat as you cross the threshold as you make your entrance. Then BOOM! You're on and the words are carrying you.
