I was so tired yesterday. My eyes burned every open moment and my head was filled with thick thoughts that I couldn’t shake. It was filled with those things I usually put behind opaque walls, yesterday I woke up before the walls were put back up and so the day was tainted with insecurities and unforgiving what ifs. I think I’m better today.
I crawled home at 5:30 and walked into an apartment filled with dinner smells. Toby made polenta last night. He made it from scratch. It was the yummiest meal. He made garlic bread as well. We ate and talked. I did the dishes and then built a nest in front of the TV. I was asleep before The West Wing. What a long day.
I woke up to Toby convincing me to go into the bedroom where I’d be more comfortable. Once in the bedroom, I couldn’t fall back to sleep. Seems when one follows up a bad day with an early shut down and the sleep is interrupted before sunrise, they wake up an adolescent. I yammered on songs and made fun of Toby for whatever goofy reasons I could come up with. There is a line in the book I am reading. It sat with me all day. It bugged me all day. I found it so unsettling and freakishly weird I asked Toby about it that evening, he tried to explain what it could mean and still it bugs me so. And so, if you can’t beat it, sing songs about it. And he covered my mouth to shut me up. Apparently, I’m not always mature enough to handle Jeffrey Eugenides’ strong, descriptive abilities because this line hit my adult conscience and set me off running into 13 again. (Oh, maturity, where are you?) I don’t remember much after the news; Hell, beneath my singing and joking, I don’t remember much of the news. But I fell asleep again. And now, here I am.
When he removed his underwear, the lifeboat filled with a mushroomy smell.
Mihow 
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