Last night there was a very loud thunderstorm, of which I approve. I’d much rather be woken up by that than the usual bar goers returning to their cars at 2:30am, drunkenly reviling one another. Or repeatedly screaming the f-word because they backed into the dumpster. (This happens nearly every Thursday, due to the subtly obstructive placement of the dumpster. Ha. Take that, drunk drivers.)

I awoke today thinking of some plans for teaching my class this autumn, a number of activities I want to get done today, stuff related to writing my thesis, and snatches from the new album I’m obsessed with (see below). When I got up, I felt all excited and shaky, as though it were the first day of summer vacation AND I’d had a couple hits off my inhaler in my sleep. (Perhaps I’m cyclothymic, and I’m in the hypomanic phase. If so, bring it on! It’s about dang time for the upswing, I say.) It feels like something exciting is scheduled for today. I mean, other than my “face-melting” appointment*.

I probably should have been using my inhaler in my sleep, because I’m currently all congested from tree pollen or whatever is blowing in the wind this week. I haven’t had this bad a seasonal allergy for a long time. My eyes are horribly allergized. No glamorous contacts for me this weekend! Glasses only.

The album I’m currently obsessing over is Goldfrapp’s “Felt Mountain.” After seeing one of her songs on a TV commercial, I looked up what it was online. There were all these great reviews on Amazon, so I ordered both of her albums used. (Still waiting for the second one.) At the first listen I thought, “Well, this is pretty nice.” At the second listen, parts of a few of the songs had already caught in my mind (not unlike fishhooks). By the third listen, I was completely addicted. I hear the songs in my sleep now. When I’m at school trying to work, it’s playing in my head. I want to make the silly sci-fi movie that Lisa and I have been talking about for ten years or so, and have an all-Goldfrapp soundtrack! (It’s definitely silly sci-fi soundtrack material, and I mean that in the most complimentary way possible.)

So yes, it really is like the first day of summer vacation. Except cloudy.


*Simon has lately been convinced that I have signed up for a dangerous procedure that will leave me with scar tissue for a face. Since he tries to be subtle, his anxiety takes the form of multiple emails and phone calls that lightly, delicately question my sanity, or describe disastrous plastic surgery outcomes: “I saw part of this programme [yes, I could tell that’s what letters were coming out of his mouth] whereby this woman’s face was lasered, and now she’s all red and shiny and can never go out in the sun again!”

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