this is for bex

I just woke up in a convent.
It’s true. Outside the window I can see the parochial school, and across the way is St. Luke’s.
Don’t worry. I haven’t joined yet. I’m here waiting for Maria. Don’t worry, she hasn’t joined either. She’s not religious, and I can’t really see her as a nun. This is just where American Players Theatre houses some of their employees. I came up to find her for the night, bring her a nice bottle of wine and a chicken dinner . . . however, it is 10:30 and she has yet to show up. I don’t really mind, I finished the book I was reading and took a nap, but I am a little nervous that she decided to ditch Plain and hit Madison tonight and that we have missed one another in transit. Although I suppose the fact that I am in fact typing on her laptop might be an indicator that she is not far off, since she doesn’t usually leave this behind for random Helper Monkey attacks.

Betch you’re wondering how I got into the convent. Simple. I opened the front door and walked in. I put the wine in the refrigerator and calmly waited for an unsuspecting Production Assistant to come out of his room, do a double take, introduce himself and point out which cell, I mean room, Maria was occupying this season. It’s funny, a little square room, one window and a little closet. The door has a window on it, like a front door to a house, as if to keep the former nuns (former as in, used to live here, not as in nuns turned theatre employees) from having too much privacy.

It’s ridiculously hot. I would just like to state that for the record.

This is a long post because I now have nothing to do except reread Jackaroo or peruse Maria’s bookshelves and snoop through her computer. Hmm . . . tempting.
Today at work someone asked me if my name was Coral because I was born near the ocean. I also discovered that my malaria covers a multitude of sins. Every time something would happen, David would look at the customer and say, “Yeah, well, she had malaria last week,” as if that explained my sudden inability to count change or remember the first title in Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum novels. I really need to go over my Africa presentation for church. Sigh. Alright kids. I’m signing out. I might be back in a bit if I get bored of Maria’s hard-drive.

and for everyone else who participates in Camel Day.

These are ones I saw.  For real.  Real camels.  How much cooler could I get?

Blender by Murmurs


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