Thursday, September 24, 2009


You know that feeling? That one where you're 5 and you have the chicken pox and you're underneath the kitchen table where your mother and the ancient woman of 70 named Dorothy who your mother calls Dot, who wears square glasses and calls you an old soul, are smoking and having coffee; you can't go outside since you have chicken pox, but you have to much energy to just sit, and you itch all over and can't scratch? And you're kind of whiny but squirming underneath the table and in and out of the yellowish vinyl bucket seat kitchen chairs?



Elizabeth said...

It's just so freaking hot here, I think.

Criticlasm said...

Yes. Not a heat person. I should summer in Nova Scotia.