And I see them in the streetsI'm tired now. Busy day. Busy week. What can you do? That is life in the middle of a big move, one that is going rather smoothly with only a handful of hiccups along the way. I still have faith that everything will get ironed out and fall into place one way or another because that is life.
And I see them in the field
And I hear them shouting under my feet
And I know it's got to be real
Oh, Lord, deliver me
All the wrong I've done
You can deliver me, Lord
I only wanted to have some fun.
No more champagne. I think I'll switch back to white wine and whiskey for obvious reasons, some that I pour myself for even more obvious reasons because seriously, who trusts Satan? This morning I found my shoes in PJ's jacket pockets and my diamond ring in Ben's shirt pocket and I am still looking for my dignity somewhere but apparently it's on a train, coming to meet me along with my car, which is taking forever and every now and then someone walks into my head and powers up a klieg light which exposes all the worn spots and all the holes and then they shut it down and walk out again and I'm left in the dark with just enough memory to mark and repair all the damned holes and then we do it all over again.
Which is ridiculous but also a necessity, unlike stupid high heels or champagne.
Though if you ask my brother-in-law, champagne is definitely a necessity, as are princesses who run on nerves and little sleep and try to conduct their evenings as if they have oodles of both.
And Ben thinks I am funny.
Nice.
I would be but I am too busy trying to be responsible and so I jumped the gun and it went off and I've been slapped back, mindful of the pace at which this plays out.
Slow. Find me the button and I will crank the fast forward. Show me the door and I may laugh and tell you I wasn't having much fun anyway, pass me another glass and be prepared because I'm going to hand you my shoes, and then four hours later I will wake up and piece it all back together and then head out for meetings and write down every single word because otherwise if I just load them in they fall out of those holes that the light shines through, don't you see? So I write them down. All of them, and it works very well. I am messily organized and mayhemish beauty and uncharted territory and seriously flawed.
Thank God you love me anyway, because sometimes it seems like there is oh so very little to love.