Sound; My alarm.

Sight; The rising sun.

Taste; Coffee and granola.

Touch; Every muscle in my body ached to stay in bed with Adam.

Smell; He had that half sweat half sleep smell that it too alluring in a man. 		March 6, 2000
stuck in the a.m.

I can't move past nine a.m., which is a shame because it's already past eleven.


Yesterday I misplaced a rib - where'd it go? - or pulled a muscle right in the center of my breastplate. You know, after reading so much medical information at work I wouldn't have to call things by their "Sarah Names." Is it breastplate or sternum or something completely different? This isn't my field of expertise, obviously.

Saying that... do I even have a field of expertise? I don't believe I do. I'll have to ask for one this Christmas. If I knock out one of my teeth and sleep with it under my pillow, will the tooth fairy take it and leave a skill in it's place?




I'm not as morose as I look. Just in a odd sort of nothing's working funk. It doesn't last long, disappearing for long periods of time until there's nothing distracting me. That when it returns full force.

See, I told you I painted my toenails yesterday. I'll be back this evening to continue. Mostly, I wanted to have another picture up for first impression, other than yesterday's odd Ellie Mae look.


Until then...
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