Half-awake, wishing that I would have not hit the snooze button so many times that it was impossible to stop for coffee without being late for my appointment. Sleep or liquid crack? Talk about a Hobson's choice....
Sitting in the parking lot, appointment over, wondering if it is strange to take pleasure in the ultrasound technician deeming my wardrobe choice perfect for the procedure. Am I the only woman who prefers to wear her own clothes pushed up as opposed to being naked from the waist down, covered by a crinkly sheet of paper? Smiling a bit to myself as I thought how easy access is important for the lady parts' doctor and certain other types of appointments. Appointments that generally involve drinks and much more pleasurable probing.
.
Now, I have returned to my own personal den of iniquity. One of them. Sipping my liquid crack; the hot, caramelized bitterness a benediction to my still-sore throat. Thinking how hard it is to let go. At least for me. Certain people, especially those in my orbit, seem to have mastered the art of letting go. At least letting go of me.
"...I am not the kind of girl who gives up just like that, oh no....the tide is high but I am holding on. I am gonna be your number one....".
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