29 September 2009

There Is No Try

M offered me Nyquil last night so I could sleep, and tonight I've made precautions of my own: a hot shower, various attempts to combat my hairy ancestry, and the generous scents of honeysuckle and patchouli, in the spirit of Cassandra, moisturizing me. I am hoping to avoid worrying the corners of my pillow with everything that yet needs doing, my groans of frustration and midnight dashes to the computer to write an email or three, to add or check something off of this or that list, stifled or resisted alltogether. There is a cat and a man sleeping in this bed as well as me, after all; shouldn't we all get to have sweet dreams of the wedding being over?

Besides, festivities begin tomorrow and we'll have house guests, too, and I know there's no sense worrying about what's going to happen no matter what I do or do not do.

Maybe that's just the lotion talking.

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