Monday Comes Every Week

I spent this weekend with Charlie. He was in town from Florida and visiting me for the weekend. It was a lot of fun and he is a great guy. It is nice to wake up next to somebody and go out to brunch, etc without having to make a million calls and try to figure out a time/place etc. It really is nice. But, Charlie lives in Florida and I can be 'HM' as he calls it. This is absurd. Ok, well maybe there is a little truth to it...but I think that is because I have been living alone for over 6 years and need to learn to be more accommodating. I'm used to things a certain way...even when my friends come over, which I love...I love, love, love having company...I get a bit anal. Which clearly I am not...or am I? I'm what is called a clothing layer. I take something off and lay it on the chair, on the bed, on the ground. So I'm not anal in that respect. I'm not sure what I am. I've decidedly become more relaxed and patient in the South and desire to chill out more and more. My ultimate goal is to become nothing more than a Matthew McConaughey imitation after he has spent a night with Mary Jane and his bongos. Sure, I'll say, no coaster...no problem. You want to spill olive oil in my stove and smoke up the loft...cool. I love the smell of burning oils, reminds me of the Iraq war of 1992. You want to cuddle and nap again? Sounds good...who needs to be outside on a gorgeous fall Sunday in the South; sleeping is the new running. So, mark my words Gentiles and Jews, a new day has come (thanks Celine) and I will rise up to the challenge. Once you can identify a goal, the rest is jelly. I have no idea what that means, but it sounds delicious, mmm peach marmalade. What I do know is that today is the last day of my past life. Just as tomorrow will be the last day of my past life if I fuck this up and need to start over again.