March has rolled in and is all growly, but I am not talking about the weather. It has been a hectic week, which leads me to believe the planets are shifting about in their orbits spurring on all manner of weirdness & inconvenience. It looked rather like this ::
Jury duty :: I finished reading Murakami & had lunch with a cantankerous elderly stranger, for despite all evidence to the contrary I am actually very kind. Then there was a real live criminal trial, but it was not at all like an episode of Law & Order. Lenny Briscoe would have had some awesome one-liners for this. I think I could write a poem called "The Baliff Takes the Jury Out To Lunch" and it would be amusing.
Absence :: My dreams have gone missing. By dreams I mean the ramblings of my subconscious during REM sleep. I have awoken every morning with zero recollection of my nighttime brain wanderings. I miss them. I hope they return. When they do, I hope there's zombies.
Self-flagellation :: I have this strange habit of liking the idea of a certain food, and trying it over & over in different incarnations, until I hit upon a version I think is good, or at least edible. I will say: "I dislike oatmeal" and then proceed to try different ways of cooking it until I like it. I think I just enjoy torturing myself. This week, I learned to love oatmeal. Next up: mushrooms. I don't like mushrooms. I also dislike egg salad, but I'm not sure that one's even salvageable from the realm of culinary hatred.
Divination :: My horoscope tells me to expect glorious career news. The Universe shall shower me with job offers that include pensions & annuities & profit sharing. I have a BA in English. Hell hath frozen over.
Susan Slaviero lives on the cusp of a hellmouth, where she vanquishes evil with poetry and cupcakes. She hopes to someday land a job as either a dog whisperer or a telephone psychic. In the meantime, she writes. She has a fondness for esoterica.