Bad Dream

You know when you have those weird, panic dreams, and try as you might, you just can not make yourself 1.) not naked in science class, 2.) not standing, at the podium, giving a speech...naked, 3.) not trapped in your car, on the railroad tracks, unable to release the seatbelt? Well, here's another one I get to add to my list. 4.) Standing in a yarn/fabric shop, and I can not shut up. (Surprise. Yawn.) But today's diarrhea of the mouth was way worse. Even as I stood there, chatting, slightly dizzy (okay, drunk as a Juarez whore) from the Xanax and Target-dryl, I could hear the little voice in my head saying "okay, zip it. Now's a great time for a moment of silence. Shhhush, already. Are you f*cking kidding me with the lip? Oh, you. are. killing. me."

All Phyl did was bring her youngest boy in with her as she picked up the scarf I nearly completed (the obvious flaw in my gauge and me breaking the yarn repeatedly didn't exactly speed things up), and I turned into some freaky speech-monkey. It wouldn't stop. Another customer said I was like a talk-radio show, and she found it very entertaining. To say I had slightly slurred speech would be an understatement. Why, oh, why isn't someone nearby with a camcorder when these things happen? Or, better plan, a tranquilizer gun? Or a tazer. Not a one of muh knittas was there to get my back... well Su was passed out on the sofa in the knit pit, because she had to keep the coffeehouse open tonight (the festival, and ensuing concert, etc...); that sort of rendered her powerless to stop my insanity.

There is more to be said here, but not here. Thimbleanna may get to see a live, repeat performance of this spectacle, when next she returns to Clementine's. Does anyone know, do I need a liqueur license to keep 'medicinal elixirs' for the next traumatic outburst in the shop? I am a danger to myself and others. Seriously. Looking into the jaw-wiring thing tomorrow. But for now, more fake Benedryl for the hives in my throat (totally from the stinking, mouldering library exhibit). At least I'm headed to bed before midnight. I need a fifteen-hundred dollar day tomorrow to make things 'okay', so call me if you need anything. I may have to sell a kidney to pay the rent, but the first year is the worst, right? This is jabber-jaws, signing off.