Nailed It

 I set the timer. Here we go. I don't have anything to say. But I have enough of a buzz to try. There's not a topic in mind. I'll just write to fill the time. The timer is running. Running. Ticking. Tocking. I'm using that Reading playlist again. It takes me to a different place. Rascal is on her dog bed. There's a weed tooter between my boobs. Nestled in my cleavage. I have a glass of red wine beside me. If I want to smoke a cigarette, I will have to roll some. I'm all out. I'll let this first five minutes be this train of thought word vomit. Tomorrow I want to meet with Nick about recently updated work instructions so we can use some of the updates for Workshop Wednesday. The peer review checklist may need to be mentioned in the catalog cuts work instruction. I may just slip it in there without getting widespread approval. I'm sure that will be fine. I've been doing better at capitalization. I'm gonna roll those cigarettes now. 

I have a date tomorrow with a man who has stood me up three times. I absolutely expect him to stand me up again. I wonder what Leah's doing right now. I'll text her after this five minutes. It's ten thirty. I really should be in bed soon. But I spent my whole evening with a man not worthy of me. I hope he never reads this. His self-esteem is so delicate. He's a nice gentleman, just not mine. He's not my guy. My guy is coming. Just don't know him yet maybe. I don't think tomorrows date will be him either but I wont know until I try . Until I give him a fair shake. It could be argued that I've already given him a fair shake. And he was stunningly disappointing three times. I'm a little dumb for giving him another chance. I'm going to buy steak for this. If he doesn't come, I suppose I'll cook the steak myself. I've never cooked one before, a little hard to believe. But I can't think of a time I have. I know the principles, should be able to handle it. A little butter in a hot skillet. Make sure the skillet is hot when you put in. You want that sizzle. And it should rest and get to room temperature before you cook it. Maybe salt it a little before the sear. Maybe a little Tonys. I'm not sure about that though. 

I don't have to smoke this cigarette right now. It's been rolled and its waiting for me but i don't have to smoke it immediately. I'd like to get a little more high. I don't feel high but I know I am. Welcome to my journey of self medication. I currently have a small supply of pain pills that I will use very sparingly. I will need a bath in the morning hours. Before I go to work. That means I need to get up at 5 and have half a gummy so I can move, so I can feel gravity just a little less. It does make it better. And it wears off about the time I get to the office. I do want to meet with Nick tomorrow. I've sent myself an email and I'll get it done. It probably needs to include Dustin too. I'll think of that tomorrow. I still haven't smoked that cigarette. Maybe I'll feel better if I just sit here and don't smoke it. I don't know why my tooter always gets clogged; I store it upright always. There's no reason that should be happening. Are they just low quality. There is the exercise of avoiding "I" in composition that interests me right about now. Here goes. After a Cigarette. Ahem - cigarette. 

The timer has been started again without the aforementioned cigarette consumption. There's a little bit of a groove going; it would be a terrible thing to waste. There are no words for my thoughts at this moment. The music is nice. Horns and cymbals shimmying. Jay O'Neal was a drummer that was in my life for a little while. There may have been a bit of drinking problem there, but no more than any of my other friends. This might be attainable, not speaking of myself in the first person. It does enrich the language a good deal. There are still two minutes and fifteen seconds left. The exercise is meant to push you past your passing thoughts. Push past your passing thoughts. Is that a song lyric? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Doris Day? Cake, definitely. One of my favorites. It's not about avoiding talking about oneself, it's more about variety of language, as repetition is unimpressive and boring. There are only eleven seconds left. Nailed it.