One of my mom's gifts to me for my birthday is this book. She knows I love to read and she knows I love Oprah. She also remembers that I kicked her out of my place 2 years ago (in a drunken stupor - her, not me). I think she thinks I'm pre-menopausal and therefore, if I read this book, it will help me with my lack of temperament with her. She's obviously not one for subtle hints.
So since my attempts for a house have been extinguished, I've started a new project. Something more personal. I'm looking for my plot. How morbid I know, and I'm not actually looking for one, but I thought it was a funny idea. I will, someday, have to look for one.
I'm hoping to wallow in self-pity for about a week, and then I'll get out of it. Otherwise, shoot me up with Prozac.
No comments:
Post a Comment