baggage's Diaryland Diary

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what's a little lemon squeezing between friends?

My shirt makes me feel like a cowboy.
Well-it's a little unfair to blame this entirely on the shirt.-which is long-sleeved, black and tucked in. The faded Levis probably nudge the illusion along as well-but, since I've worn these pants before with nary a cowboy feeling in sight, a better opener would have been: "My shirt and jeans make me think I feel like a cowboy."
Let me explain, however, that this particular cowboy feeling isn't quite what it implies. It's not all fun and games. It's not even romantic in any sense of the word. There are no long, warm nights on a distant prairie somewhere, no pretty young girls tugging on my long, black sleeves, and no tall, well-shaped hat silhouetted against a sunset.
Nope. None of that.
What I'm mostly feeling is sleepy. And to me, this is what a cowboy would probably feel after a long day of wrangling, riding, chewing and roping in a suburban fashion.
The sleepyness has been constant lately. I used to wake up right before the alarm would go off-which, to me, signals that your body is somewhat ready to awaken. But, lately, the noise of the alarm has ripped me away from the deepest of sleeps and the clearest of dreams.
Hope my body catches up soon.

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As proven by my most recent disjointed entry, the week away was good for the soul. So good, that I had to spill the goodness out without any regard to sentence structure or logic. I just wanted it out-proof that the week away was as wonderful as my memory tells me.
I have one regret. I wish I would have finished the little cmajor ditty I was playing on the piano inside the Great Hall. The moon was shining, and the Great Hall was luminous, but I stopped without resolving the song-without hitting that last C major to signal the finish. Not that this is a major source of baggage. It simply would have been a nicer alternative to the A minor or G7th I played last.
If that's my one regret, then I suppose the week was good.
The clocks moved back an hour today-and what I thought was seven really is six. For the first time all week, I'm not sleepy-although last night's shenanigans has left me with a sore back and slight case of heartburn.
Hallmarks of the age, eh?
The haunted house was fun. The dinner beforehand was fun. The cartoons afterwards was fun. The lovemaking was fun. Last night reeked of funness-and I found myself thinking of those thankful thoughts I think when moment after sweet moment hits me with an unexpected bliss.
And I wonder: how long will this last? Girl-Unit and I have hit a few bumps lately and i told her last week "this is is the beginning of the end."
Maybe, I was too wrapped up in dramatics-but it felt true at the moment. We've been at odds lately and, quite frankly my dear, I give enough of a damn to want out.
But, that's a whole other thing all together.
And, I really don't want to write about it right now.

9:34 p.m. - 2005-10-31

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