Organized Activities

So last night I went to the second meeting of my book club, which I still find very entertaining. We are discussing Nuala O-Faolain’s My Dream of You, which is about a middle aged woman travel writer who has been estranged from her family and native Ireland since she was young. But the death of a close friend prompts her to return to her homeland to make peace with her family and research a 150-year-old mystery. I know – YAWN!

But surprisingly, our book club meetings are lively and fun! I think this is mostly because the main character in the book sleeps with almost every man she comes across throughout her life, and this has often become the dominating topic of conversation at our little meetings. I was shocked and appalled when an old woman from my department who I barely know blurted without shame: “Well, as a reformed slut myself, I can understand where she’s coming from.” Thanks, but TMI.

And speaking of this particular book clubber, I just have to say something about the only drawback of our meetings. She always chooses to sit next to me. Which is fine. But if you’re going to wear sandals in a closed-in space filled with lots of people, please wash your feet. I honestly tried not to gag like three times, and the visual image was not any better, with her long, gnarled, discolored toenails. And on top of that, the room had no open windows, so as the temperature rose it quickly became apparent that she did not believe in foot fungus medication or antiperspirant. I had to get up and “use the bathroom” just for a breath of fresh air!

Anyway, I feel a little bit smarter today, even though I didn’t finish the book, which I plan on reading this afternoon at work while I have nothing better to do.

In other news, if I don’t get some sleep soon I think it’s quite possible that I may kill myself. I have no idea what’s up with my brain, but it is refusing to cooperate and enter that lovely world of REM sleep. Every night I have nightmare after nightmare about my ex boyfriend, and I wake up almost every hour crying, sweating and gasping for air. It totally sucks, as you can imagine. Now I must admit that I have had a couple more “pleasurable” dreams, but these have been few and far between and in no way make up for the night terrors. I am a walking zombie (I actually bumped into the frame of my bathroom door this morning) and I think I’m getting sick, too – NOT good, considering the weekend of camping and drinking I have planned.

Maybe I’ll try to nap underneath my desk this afternoon. I really don’t think anyone would notice…