My washing machine broke so I am sitting here at the laundromat typing this (typo alert). This laundromat appears to be attracting a clientele whose glares are somewhat evocative of those composite sketches you sometimes see on your local post office's notice board. You know, the ones with the words "WANTED" and "REWARD" written all over them?
(I am toying with the idea of skipping the drying cycle all together and getting out of here at what can only be defined as lightning speed... )
Otherwise, not much else to blog about. I catch myself fantasizing about Geoff all the time. He walks in the door, with groceries in his hands, like nothing happened. In these fantasies I wake up and realize his death was just a bad dream.
But I guess it's final. I guess this nightmare is the rest of my life and I guess parts of me died too.
And the rest of me doesn't know what to do.
Until next time.