pressed it all against the sea

I am exhausted with possibilities.

that statement was almost entirely untrue, except for the part about being exhausted. I have no motivation to finish my t-shirt project (I am turning an old Sex Pistol's shirt into a cardigan-- it aspires to be very cute.) (if I ever finish it), and my brain is marinading in coffee. Greyson is sleeping quite sweetly; I wonder if he'll sleep long enough for me to regain my sanity.

I doubt it.

Here are things I am looking forward to today:

1. seeing Caroline.

Even though it is the last time I will see her for a year. I suppose that is why I am looking forward to seeing her, but making sense is not my strong point today. That is no excuse, my brain lectures. Brain, I reply, You, of all people, have no authority in this matter and should therefore be silent. If I would like to not make sense and then justify it by blaming the caffiene I consumed without eating any actual food, I will do as such.
I doubt everything I say. Writers should never have to suffer like this.

[back to my list]

2. coming off of my caffeine high.
My hands are unreliable and shaky; my t-shirt project is watching me, unamused. I do not trust myself to pick up my baby in this state of mind. Tom Waits is the only person I trust right now.

3. the end of Greyson's nap.
I will take the opportunity to leave the house gladly.

On an unrelated note, I am very seriously considering going into the bathroom and not coming out until Greyson is awake. Once in the bathroom, I plan on sitting in the empty tub and savoring the silence.
Perhaps, then, my mind will rest and I will find peace.

i dreamt that i knew the secret

Before I let you in on the aforementioned secret, I should introduce myself.
I am, as my display name would have you believe, one hot momma. My son is 2 months old, and is probably cuter than your baby. His name is Greyson.
My job, boyfriend, hometown, cat, and favorite color are none of your business. (Cashier at local movie theatre, Luke, Boone, Big Fat Gracie, green)
Other aspects of my life include reading Kurt Vonnegut aloud, walking around charming Boone-Town, and trying to make my baby smile.

I am very proud of my silliness. To illustrate this fact, I have spun a tale based on a dream I had last night.

Last night, I had a dream that I was trapped in an attic with a society of zombie chimpanzees who were watching me battle one of their own, gladiator style. The battle was particularly unfair as the chimpanzee was not only a member of the undead and cannot be killed by anything short of decapitation, but was armed with an automatic weapon.
After the battle (which I inexplicably won), I was told in a letter written by the Mockturtle that any school teachers who are unhappy in their marriages are a waste of space and should probably commit suicide.

If my dreams actually mean anything, I am definitely crazy.

It is an ungodly hour and I wish that I was eating breakfast instead of blogging. My cat thinks that I should pet her; I disagree.