Ah, the weekend has passed, the orangeness patchily subsided and once again I find myself on the couch, waiting for the week to begin...
And while waiting, indulging in a little "Days of our lives"-action.
The love/hate affair I have with daytime soap operas is not new but seems to come and go in waves, forever ebbing and flowing, pulling me in and releasing me from it's hypnotizing and possibly incestuous embrace.
At times (not all that surprisingly these times often coincide with the times of paid employment) I have not the slightest hint of interest for them, scoffing at the outlandish intrigues at hand and rolling my eyes while changing the channel and letting out a patronizing "puhleeze" under my breath.
And then there are other times, the less productive (and much more recent) times spent on the couch, where the windowless and apparently time warped existence of the Brady family casts me under it's spell and has it's way with me.
Then usually I have a little nap.
I do realize that I am but one pregnancy away from waving my hand in my child's face while yelling "Be quiet Lula-Mae, mama's watching her stories!!"
And as horrifying as that may seem, at least I'm not married to the half brother of my daughter.
At least not that I know of.
*This is what my fourth grade English skills lead me to believe was the title of that famous soap opera. It made sense to me at the time, but then again, so did over sized hypercolour t-shirts.
the hard stuff
13 hours ago