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I have taken over the upstairs office. Mr. X has gravitated to the comfortable olive, ultra sueded couch with the new, mechanically astounding lift top coffee table. He has made the perfect nest for himself with the refrigerator and television close at hand. I am laying on the floor in the upstairs loft/office. I am on the floor because the scorching desert sun is burning my face, blinding my eyeballs and making the desk too hot to touch. Getting a shade for the office has just moved up in priority on my list of things to do.
I have been spending all of my time cooking, and thinking up new things to cook. I think I’m at week two of my six week commitment to the allergy diet. I was somewhat hoping that I wouldn’t feel better and that I could instead just up my medication dosage, or eat some magic root in addition to all of the things I am “allegedly” allergic to. But, unfortunately, and fortunately, I begrudgingly admit, am feeling better. These last few days when I eat something I almost feel high. Mr. X is being very patient and accommodating to me, as usual. I know he’s sick of hearing a detailed report every time I have a symptom, or lack of a symptom, and how it feels or how it doesn’t feel. Not to mention that every description must be described in minutiae, ad nauseam and then punctuated with an analogy. What can I say for myself….It is my way.
*In other news, I have once again been contacted by THE MAN. He wants me back. I told him I don’t want to go back. Then I told him I might come back. Then I told him I would work for him on a per piece basis, with no contracts and no guarantees that he’s even going to get anything. But, you know THE MAN…..he doesn’t like to take no for a answer. So, I’m sitting at my computer, thinking about what a big black guy from the hood would want on the back of his jacket or the front of his t-shirt.
*For those of you who don’t know me, or hang on my every word….I used to design graphics for “urban” clothing. I did this for about five years before becoming disillusioned, hardened and generally put off by the business and the people who run it in. I went to massage school, re met Mr. X and moved to the last place on earth I ever thought I would live…Vegas.
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