Anxious anxious anxious. Anxious. So many variables. My life is such a house of cards. I habitually rob Peter and still, there he is: Paul tapping his foot, hand out, waiting waiting waiting. This is not my beautiful house! This is not my beautiful wife! I'm going running. Very soon. I'm wearing my swimsuit. Ok. Ok. Ok.

When I lived in Florida--finishing up my undergraduate crappity bap--I made one friend. Luckily for us all that one was a keeper. Britania, the wonderous Britania has re-established friend contact today. Cause for cheer indeed. A smattering of her witticisms:

"The things I enjoy these days: Driving my stickshift around town. Drinking. Shooting the shit. I like to be the center of attention. Cause nobody puts Baby in a corner."

"I miss you though it might not seem so. I have had crushes on 35 people since I've seen you last. I am quite the slut (minus the action). I should work on this."

"I am a conversation away from crying every minute."

"Then, there is this bout of paranoia where I think everyone hates me and I see their reasoning."

"But I really do love people who repeat their actions. I do respect people who don't learn from their mistakes. I mean that."

How could anyone help but love this girl? I mean really? She may be the most lovable person you'll ever meet. I am twisting her arm trying to get her to move here. I'm also twisting her leg and her long brown hair. Move here! MOVE. HERE.

Oh, we're a sad bunch in this house today. Buddy Black has gone home. We are living in subdued central. Oh, but welcome home Frances and Jeff! I was happy as can be to see your smiling faces. And I hear, (from Jeff, because Frances is a modest mouse (not like the band, though)) that her toast at the wedding was the hit of the season. Yeah for Frances. Hip hip Frances. She's super. And thank you ever so much for the postcard and the Sherman Alexie book. Sherman Alexie is quickly becoming the most frequently read poet in this house. Sherman Alexie inspires deep sighs and longing in me. Sherman Alexie is one of those writers whose every word is both a surprise and inexorable.

Damn. I was going to write down my whole Ho Treatise today. Shit dog. It'll keep, I imagine. But I must get it down for my own reference. I fear someone may have crossed the line and I have to write down the boundaries so that I can check. Never mind. Don't ask. My mind is sludge.

The lake. I was going to go to the lake. Right. I'm off to take the cure.