I must remember that I am addicted to caffeine.

I woke up quite early this morning and positively leapt from my bed. First activity of the day? Attacking my weedy overgrown lawn. I got about 1/2 done before all my muscles turned to jelly. I was so dehydrated after that workout that I couldn't stand the thought of drinking coffee. So I didn't. And then I didn't some more. Which meant that by noon I was comatose on my bed. And by 2 I was suffering from a raging headache. So why didn't I just make some coffee then, you ask? I don't know. I didn't have milk.

But I am just returned from an outing to the grocery store and the coffee place and I am all turned around now. Had the coffee. All is good.

Thoughts:

1. I have so very many emails to write. I have become the worst email correspondent in all the land. This summer I was the opposite. My inbox was always empty. I never went to bed with an email waiting. And now it's just completely out of control. I think I'm in a hermit hide from the world phase. I think I will never find a happy medium. I think I'm adjusting to life without Bathsheba. Which brings me to thought number

2. Every time I lock the truck or turn the headlights on or have my wallet with me out in the world I think very hard about the fact that I no longer have a safety net here in town. All my people are gone gone gone (excepting Frances--but she does live 40 minutes away). Meaning: no more carelessly locking myself out of the truck or leaving the headlights on and killing the battery or losing my wallet. I've no one to call to help me out of short-term jams anymore. It's distressing. I mean, I know I could call Timalina or Derring Do or Reginald (who is pregnant! I mean, Barbara is the one actually with child--but forgodssake they're going to have a baby!) and they would help but I'd feel like a jerk. I never accept their invitations to hang out. Therefore, I believe, I lose the privilege of calling on them in my times of need. I've got to get out of this funk and start being friends with people again. But, most times I'm wiped out from work and teaching and I just don't have the energy for society. Blah.

3. It's a beautiful day. This morning was outstanding. Basho and I wrestled in the backyard for a good long while. I no longer let Bash outside without me and therefore I spend a lot more time out there and also therefore he has become the most obedient and tractable dog ever. Not that I hold these two qualities in tremendously high esteem (I've seen too many dogs who are completely obedient because they were beaten or shamed into submission--I hate that), but it seems Basho is much happier. He doesn't like to be left to have fun on his own. I'm sorry puppy.

4. People are scary. I look around and there are so very many of us and we each have our own little worries and sorrows and it just fills me with despair. I know it shouldn't. I should feel glad, somehow, of all the different people. I don't. I am worried by the great masses. Even the small masses. Even just the few I know. Worrisome and hard because I feel like I don't have the energy to know anyone new ever again. Most people don't seem to have a firm center, a hardness of self. I like to be around people who, when I find myself falling into the morass of their needs or neediness, push me the hell out. There aren't many.

5. Don't take this as depression. I'm not depressed. I don't like how much I work. When I am not working, I am nearly without thoughts or desire. I don't want anything anymore. No new people. No things. No stimulus. I like Basho and I like Harold and I like Miss Blue and for the day-to-day, this is, perhaps, enough.

6. I want to wipe out everything I've said already. I do want to something new. I want some catalyst, something or someone to get me excited about life again. I'm not excited by any of this. But I'm losing the will to imagine anything different.

7. I have reverted to my crushless state. I haven't had a crush on anyone since wolf boy left. I just don't care anymore. Who needs a boy? Who wants a boy? Not me, no sir, not me.

8. I'm lonesome. I want to be found. I want to be saved.

9. Tomorrow's my papa's birthday. He will be 51. I'm sure the panic attacks have already begun. My dad freaks out about his age every year. When he turned 40? Man, it was like black death had come to pay him a visit. My mom loves getting older, but my dad is rather vain about such things. He is a trim and youthful 51: plays basketball and/or golf every day, has a full head of black hair (though his beard--wait, I think he doesn't have a beard anymore--his beard was nearly completely gray--I bet that's why he shaved it off). I sent him the new Bruce Springsteen CD (nothing like the boss to bring a family together) and Lucinda (oh Lucinda) Williams's Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.

10. Right here, I've got next to me a book by Miller Williams. He was once the poet laureate of this country. He also wrote and read a poem for Bill Clinton's second inauguration. And do you know who his daughter is? That's right. Lucinda (oh Lucinda). Miller Williams died last year, I believe.

11. I have many overdue library books. I work at the library. There is no excuse for this.

12. Do you see that I'm attempting to write myself out of this sadness? It's almost working.

13. I'm going to Boston in just a few days. I am actually not anxious at all about this. I am excited excited excited. J-bird and sfitz. Two of my favorites in all the world. Wahoo.

14. I'm not ordering cable. I figured out a way to kinda sorta get the Buffy station. It will have to do. Although, Bathsheba! You'll still tape, won't you? That way when we next see each other we can have a Buffy-thon! And it will be so fun! Because Buffy is just not the same if I can't dissect it with you, babycakes.

15. Ok. I feel all better. Buhbye bubbas.