The thought of going out to some big loud glittery stinky department store and slogging through rack after rack of dresses...it makes me so exhausted.
I want to get a pedicure, too. That doesn't make me tired, but I do think it is rather silly. I am quite sure that my brother is going to be looking down on all of the hoopla this week from Heaven and remark to Hunter S. Thompson, "...and my sister, Laura, is the broad with the Bozo The Clown red hair and the snazzy toenails."
Friend Memmer is going to be there, and I do look forward to seeing him, although I am quite certain that just the sight of him will fill my eyes with tears. He and his missus, they're what you would call Good People.
Jesus, a dress. Can't I make anything do in my closet? I have shitloads of black clothes, but they are all Arizona casual. I also have to pack. That's a no-brainer. I'll be wearing My Uniform: black Land's End t-shirt, Levi's 515s, black slides. No fuss, no muss.
It's now 2:00pm and my hair is still sopping wet and the day isn't getting any younger. So I will run out to Dillards and Macy*s and get that hell over with, then come home and sleep until morning. Sleep is the only place where Andy doesn't haunt my thoughts. It's damned considerate of him, actually, to let me have my dreams.
Copyright 2007, Laura Linger