My Cardboard Balcony

So, while last week was smooth and pretty great, this week was just a whole ball of crazy. First, my St. Patrick's Day came with a good ol' trip to the doctor. Wound up with an infection in my armpit that could have definitely become an abscess if I didn't get it treated. Good thing I started taking antibiotics, though, because my sister was the first person in my family to get strep throat! Not an accomplishment to put on her résumé, that's for sure. The main thing that's been driving me up the wall this week, actually, is the fact that my job outlook is in a really frustrating limbo right now. I'm waiting for calls, reference checks, schedule updates, and it all throws a wrench into how open I can be to pick up shifts. I'm really, super excited for certain prospects, but having them so up in the air does cause some confusion and chaos in my daily life. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed in hopes that certain things come into fruition. Oh, and ...

Fun Juice by Belinda Roddie Just one sip, and you'll forget your childhood! Try it!

"How's her transition going?" I looked up. "Whose transition?" My mother was staring at me. "Sam's. You told me she was transitioning. She's transitioning, right?" "Um. Yes." I stared at the floor. "He'd appreciate it if you used the correct pronouns, though." I could see the color creep up in my mother's cheeks. But I wouldn't back down. Not when it came to my husband, anyway.

The Night by Belinda Roddie The night was hot as Hell, and we rolled up the sleeves of our shirts so we could endure the blist'ring heat. We decided to stop by the gas station for a drink to slurp and candy bars to snack on before we went back to your place. You took off your top the moment the door slammed. Your bosom free and your skin moist and glistening, you plopped yourself on the couch and patted the space beside you. I could not resist - I fell onto the cushions, my perspiring face nearly colliding with your chest. The smell of body odor was mixed with your own perfume, and I was servant to your throne.

The salesman came back our house three times that day. I wasn't sure if he was lost or lonely. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe he had a really bad short term memory. Or maybe he was searching for something that I wasn't sure I had. When I heard the doorbell rang again, I debated ducking under my couch with my cellphone and dialing the police. Instead, I went to the window, and ther he was, dressed in his tan suit, looking like the world was collapsing around him.

How I Sleep by Belinda Roddie with a million dreams backed up in my brain, like tiny trains caught on a finite rail. like hubcaps spinning on a road to nowhere. like bubbles bursting when the crystal finally becomes clear.

No update on the OneWord website today. Happy Wednesday, everyone!