I've always liked that one. Lay-a-bed. Anyway, I hate headlines that make me work. And in this case, the fact that I didn't automatically know they meant "liberal" either makes me completely stupid, burnt out on all things Obama, or...something.
And yes, this does mean I'm back, deconstructing American mainstream media so you don't have to, and now you'll have more time to peruse People.com. Relieved? I know, me too. 15 hours of sleep since 4 p.m. yesterday and I think I'm pretty much ready to rock and roll, until sometime tonight when I pass out again.
But first, tonight, a welcome home Girlyman show! I can't think of a better way to come back home than two days of sleep and one of my favorite bands playing live. It takes away an infinitesimal (which is to say almost nonexistent) bit of the sting of walking in the door completely wired and exhausted to a dogless house and a beautiful package from Heavenly Days that includes what remains of my little guy. My feelings about this are the size of the world, shrunk down to the reentry lunch with my mother when we talked about it so I'd understand exactly what happened, and the half hour I spent sitting at the dining room table with him as soon as I got home. I have lots of tears for him, it turns out, 13 years of memories worth, I guess, which makes them the most essential kind.
As much as I knew it was true, I still can't believe it. I can't believe that's him in there, topped off with a sympathy note and a guardian angel pin of a dog with a halo and wings. My mother made all of his stuff go away because my parents couldn't stand it (I can't imagine what it was like, being here) and didn't want me to have to either, but it's still terrible, either way. I came downstairs when I finally woke up to the sun shining through the screen door and call me crazy, but because it's early spring and the perfect slice of light was hitting the entry way, I was genuinely surprised not to see him stretched out all Punkin-yoga style in it. It's really quiet around here.