The world's prettiest zombie. Night of the living Bridget. A pissed-off little baby bumblebee. A totally buzzing, vibrating, half-dead, almost perpetually asleep stinging ball of total mellow. Ahahaha. Mellow peeps. New for Easter. They only come in blonde.
These are all the descriptions of me that man is flinging across the room. I'm glad someone's laughing. I'm squinting one eye shut and just trying not to plant my face in the laptop while I write. At least he made some coffee. Maybe I'll actually be awake after I finish it. Oh and the cake. He went and got a black forest cake and warmed up a piece for me. Because cake for breakfast isn't just in the movies. It's for the liquid Bridget-type aliens who took over my house. I looked in the mirror this morning and I laughed. Like a fucking maniac. The very first side effect of all these pills is the deep dark circles under my eyes. So fucking beautiful now.
My god, he really should run far far away. And take the kids with him so they get half a chance. I'm kidding. They went off with their little lunchpacks to playgroup today like they do every Wednesday. Clean, neat, color-coordinated and fiercely loved by both of us. I've got my shit together enough so that I can parent well and just fall apart on the side. It's a gift.
I'm just rattling around the house today amazed that life goes on, as it always does while I bounce from one round of knockouts to the next. There are few sure things in this life and for me we've gone well past death and taxes. The things that keep cropping up to keep us going: cake, hugs, laughter, coffee, normalcy, oxygen, love that we live on. New memories. Blessed new ones. Quick, fill me up and then the old ones will fade away forever.
Memories like cake for breakfast. Cake for the bee. Peep peep.
This is your brain on drugs. I could get used to this. oh and get this: up to six WEEKS to build up a tolerance with this. Lord. And I'm going to just let it all out so be prepared to be entertained. Or something.
