...wrap up a project at work, but really must take a few minutes to not think about it — never mind actually writing the damn thing.
Brief reflection, prompted by listening to an oldies station this morning:
It used to be I woke up at 10 a.m. wondering why Sheena's "My Baby takes the Morning Train" was running through my head. (Answer: I had, the night before, drunkly hopped on top of a brightly lit column at a bar in NYC and danced — alone to it — according the the ex-boyfriend I was visiting. I chose not to believe him at the time.)
These days I awake wondering whether I remembered to put Tootie's jacket in the dryer or whether we're out of the current fave cereal or whether I have any clean undies.
OK, well, the latter has always been a pressing concern, but you get the ides...
I'm so damn ancient and staid. Will address this in the future as I'm on a new quest to triumph over frumpiness.
All right — back to project. Editor looming...
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