Day 3

2nd shift is a bitch to get used to. harder than i thought. the mornings are great, but adam is adjusting to daylight savings time and resenting the hell out of me for being not-daddy at bedtime, so it’s rough. strange and rough. i don’t have any sort of pattern yet. it feels like saturday morning then eric LEAVES.

no writing to speak of, but that will come. i’m cooking two things – one is for heather and the other is a more appropriate continuation for chapter4, bridget’s backstory is falling around her in bits and pieces and snatches of overheard conversation – i’m nearing a split that is not going to be nearly as complicated as i was trying to make it. forget the fancy tricks, i’m just going to tell the story and move things around if i feel like it once it’s out.

kiddo is singing lady gaga to ponyo. it’s 10:30. gah.

i nap with him, i’m spoiled siesta-wise. 

i dreamed i had sex with justin timberlake and got pregnant, and all of this was happening in sort of a 50’s-era surf movie, and he was very “i want a baby, i’ve been ready” (who knew??) and i was standing on a beach in a pink two-piece and had a really fabulous ponytail. i was 3 equal parts divided: “oh no! social mores, out of wedlock,  just one time and i’m pregnant, what a 50s PSA i am!”  and one third “i am fucked. is eric going to kill me, or is he going to be very joseph to my mary with this whole having justin timberlake’s baby thing?” and one third “what a bullseye. what a good-looking kid this will be. one night stand to lifetime of involvement, this won’t be bad.” i think i’m kind of a bad person in my dreams. anyway, i woke up during the sunset beach conversation feeling very weird about the whole thing as my 3 yr old was still asleep next to me…

the trees are budding, the birds are back, the grass is greening.

lonely.

love song for my (not that) faraway love:

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