have been a bit down lately.
All my friends tell me it's a normal thing. The post-travel baddies. The reality-check blues.
What happened? My first few days back I was like a bad-ass rock-star divachick who could kick this world in the teeth. Now I have trouble following a thought through to the end. I staul and flip-flop making decisions. I have trouble listening. Glossy magazines annoy me*. I don't know what I want. Wait ... what was I saying?
Sometimes, I don't want to talk to people.
My brother was concerned, so he gave me a book to read. It is one of the best books he has ever read, he says. This book changed his life, he says.
The book is called Dr. Jensen's Guide to Better Bowel Care.**
Sometimes, I don't want to talk to my brother.
There is hope for me. A current list of available cures includes: singing in the car with the windows down, a street lined with Christmas lights, and listening to the new*** Ben Folds album over and over again. It can be assumed that shiny, sparkly things will still do the trick. It has been proven that cookie dough and spoonfuls of canned frosting will not. Television is straight out. An evening with Jon Stewart would be nice. I won't send back a dozen roses.
But the point is, I'm going to be okay.
I'm going to be fine.
But why don't we all dance more?

*i.e. US and People and Vanity Fair, which were never really known for their substance but puh-leeze. Does anyone actually care about Brad and Jennifer?
**A Complete Program for Tissue Cleansing Through Bowel Management (Avery Publishing, pp.234, $14.95)
*** Rockin' the Suburbs, which is not all cheeky like the title song but is really lovely and heartbreaking in places