I went to see my doctor today. The witch doctor, the one who keeps me somewhat sane and adequately supplied with Valium. I told her that things are going pretty well but that sometimes, as Gargamel likes to say, the demonic 5 year old who lives in my head likes to make an appearance, start a fight and leave me to clean up the mess. I told her that Rosemary's baby usually shows up when I am otherwise stressed out, like, for example, when MOVING or PAINTING, and then causes me to freak out and throw things, although usually NOT myself. She said, These are times you should probably take your valium. Yeah, no kidding, Doc. Then she said, Well, this could just be an aspect of your personality.
Did you all get that? I can't blame it on a "chemical imbalance", it's MY FREAKING PERSONALITY. I AM A RAVING LUNATIC! It's official.
It is also official that my house IS NEVER GOING TO BE DONE. EVER. NEVEREVEREVERNEVER. G's friend, Bill the carpet guy is apparently busy every possible second until doomsday and we are going to forever live with rolled up carpet in the dining room. Although, as my girl Ems said,
What's wrong with rolled up carpet in the
living room? Brian and I slept with a fucking bloodstained mattress
propped up in our living room for months. Squalor, Jess. It gives you
CHARACTER.
So apparently, I am going to be the biggest character on the planet.
Hooray!
In better news, I am going to see Bela Fleck tonight with Brian and Action Geek. I have been foaming at the mouth to see Bela Fleck for AGES now, and what's better is that there will be no discussion of carpet. Just banjos.
And beer. Definitely beer.
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