It’s CHSH week!
I’m about to compile my to-do lists for these three days before I fly out, and I don’t think I have enough paper to make the final list, and I know I don’t have enough hours in the day to manage it all. Something is going to have to get pushed off until the next week. Some fifty somethings.
My foot is much better, and I think I’ll be able to get it into my boot without too much trouble. It’s tender as hell, and still has a big goose egg, but that’s about half the size it was on Saturday night. I was able to walk around fairly well yesterday, so I’m hopeful I’ll be able to dance my fool ass off in Chicago. If not, Richard has graciously offered to give me piggy back rides everywhere, and hopefully that offer also includes the dance floor.
Thursday, bitches. I’m bringing so many hugs and kisses with me, it’s ridiculous. Pucker up, Buttercup.
In other news
The giant scab on my knee from my inebriated fall at the bar last week fell off today.
Can’t take me anywhere.
GABRIEL GARCÍA MÁRQUEZ 1927-2014
“Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt empty and hollow and aching.”
― Gabriel García Márquez
Rest in peace, beautiful soul.