Words! Words! Words!

In my dreams last night, something horrible happened to me - I don't remember what it was, only that it left me with that defeated feeling I had that one time when my ex-husband and I were facing having to move into his parents' basement and give away our dogs.  I was powerless against this thing, whatever it was, and it broke me.  And then Murphy, the boss's dog at work, got hurt and had to be put down.  And then there were zombies.  And then Stacy was pregnant with a second baby, while still cooking this first one - her kids were destined to be only 6 months apart.  And then I touched a wounded naked man and felt a spark of connection, like he was tethered to my soul, and he told me the zombies were slow and were decaying rapidly.  He stared into my eyes, feeling what I felt, and I wanted to fuck him, but he was dying, so I kissed his lips softly then ran off to meet Jimi by the vintage hot rod hot naked man had left parked for us to find, with keys in the cup holder.  The car was a minty green, with woodgrain running boards, and it took forever to start, because it was a stick and I don't know how to drive a stick, and when I finally started it, I accidentally threw it into reverse and nearly crashed it, which would've meant certain death for me and Jimi.  I saved it just in time, though, and we drove off into the Sunday morning where I found myself awake and confused and wanting to go back to that place because I couldn't remember what that awful thing was that had happened to me at the beginning.  I dozed for another hour, searching for that place, that thing, while Jimi showered and started his day.  I'm still trying to remember what it was.

I'm tired.  I'm worn down.  I'm craving silence and my front porch and huge stretches of time where I have nothing to do and nowhere to be.  It's been a blast, but it's too much for this homebody who's used to turning out the lights at 10:30 every night.

It started the Thursday before the wedding, with a sort-of impromptu bachelor/bachelorette party; Melinda and Gary are both heavily involved with the Culbertson Mansion haunt every year, so checking out a few other haunted houses seemed only natural.  They both have lots of friends in the business, and it was neat to listen to them chat about the behind-the-scenes production details.  My favorite part was absolutely the pitch-black maze, where Melinda and I darted away from the boys and found ourselves lost and being taunted by a creepy voice whose body we ran into a few times but never saw.  We laughed so hard I'm surprised no one peed.  

Friday night was a house-warming party at friends' new home, Saturday was the rehearsal, and then the wedding on Sunday.  Monday was an off night, but Tuesday we went to visit a friend we'd not seen in (very nearly literally) years and I got drunk and fell asleep at her kitchen table, in that truly classy way of mine.  I did not fall down, though, nor did I throw up anywhere, so my faux pas could've been so much worse.  (I sent her a Facebook message the next morning, apologizing for being a drunken slore, and until this morning, I thought she'd ignored my message.  God Bless Facebook, though, it just didn't give me a notification that I had a new message from her - one that read "No worries. Hope I get to see you soon!".)  We did nothing on Wednesday, but Thursday we had Steve over for dinner and I made a (they tell me) delicious meatloaf and mashed taters and peas and we watched some horror flick called The Ugly.  Friday night...like the wedding, Friday night may need it's own post.  I met Sarah and Stacy for dinner, and after, Sarah and I met her friend Robby at Akiko's for karaoke.  Holy shitballs, what a great time I had!  Yesterday we had running to do, then a dinner party last night.  Today we've cleaned a little, and I'm leaving in a few to visit Brother.  

Come 4 o'clock, though, you'll find me on my ass, on my front porch, no bra, probably with a beer and a cigarette and a book, and please don't disturb me until it's time to watch The Walking Dead at 9 tonight, okay?  

And I'm not doing anything this week.  I'm going to come home and read the internet and go to bed at 9:30 every night.  

My God, when did I get so old?  And I'm socially awkward now, too, especially around people who don't already know and love me.  That probably is going to need its own post too.  

Happy Weekend!  May the rest of your Sunday pass slowly and leisurely, and may Monday be nice to you.