En Francais

It’s just been one of those days — for two days in a row. Between all of this talk of imminent surgery and a project I’ve devoted the last few months to hitting the skids (well, more like taking a last minute, unexpected left despite oncoming traffic) — I feel like drinking a whole bottle of wine, alone in a dark closet. And then the hubby and I just had a real down-in-the-mouth talk about where our capitalist society is headed, him just returning from a week of sessions on how to trick customers into buying even more shit they don’t need. Even if it is high-end technology that most large companies are already using prolifically. Details.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not depressed. More like sick and tired of being sick and tired. I think I need to stop reading depressing books and find something brainless and mind-numbing. No more real world stuff. Just something about tiptoeing and tulips or rainbow connections. Plus, I think they frown on locking yourself in a closet and drinking when you have kids. At least in this country.

You’d think reading a book about the Lost Boys of the Sudan would make me eternally grateful for having a roof and not being shot at while I’m dodging hungry lions to get polluted water from the river for my dinner. But being the mellow-drama queen that I am, it only makes me think that my life isn’t meaningful enough. That I’m watching too much Anna Nicole saga and not listening to enough NPR. And there I am, back at depressing. Completely negating my point. Which was what again?

Oh yea. Moving to a small French village and baking bread. You can still blog from there. And the wine is delicious. (Their closets are probably pretty cool too.)

TODAY'S THEME SONG: Whatever Gets You Through The Night. John Lennon. ('Salright. 'Salright.)