Thank you, thank you, we're here all week

For a moment, I will assume the identity of Captain Obvious here. If you live in New Orleans now, you know one universal truth:

Traffic sucks.

While sitting in traffic on Jefferson Avenue in front of the Isidore Newman School, my dearest and I slumped into our usual traffic sulk. This is more of a slightly soured mood, followed by a sigh, then a shift in the seat, and often finished with another sigh and an elbow placed on some surface in the car.

We waited. He read the sign on the side of the school. In his best Seinfeldian voice, he muttered, "Newwwwwman."

How many clowns can you fit in a Hummer?

I was just noticing that the headline for that last post should read something more like, "2005 can kiss my puckered, pasty, corpulent ass." Ahh. Isn't that a sweet picture?

My mood swings continue their maniacal carnival in my head. That's what this is all like - an endless freaking teacup ride (dizzy with shifting life events) (Also: teacup rides are retarded. I hate them), with elements of Space Mountain (being kept in the dark, not sure what's next), It's a Small World (do I need to explain?), and the Log Flume ride (again, no explanation needed).

And funnel cake will be served.

I am, against my own frustrated wishes, becoming increasingly anxious about next hurricane season. It's been a really mild winter so far. Tooooo mild.

2005 can kiss my shiny white ass

We're back in our apartment. Finally. We've had two ginormous parties to corroborate this new reality for us, because frankly, I had a hard time adjusting to "normalcy" at first. It's sinking in though. Damn it feels good. The floors will never recover from this goddamn sheetrock dust, I fear - I mean, 4 moppings and it's like I swabbed the floors with a dirty Q-Tip and called it a day.

In contrast with the floors, my mental health has improved considerably since moving back into our place. I'm already fretting about my next session with my therapist...I mean, I don't know what to talk about. I could pick a million issues now from the imperfections collection that is me, but the urgency of the last few months is waning. I have caught her twice dozing off (I know! I know!) and we talked about it, and I decided to give her another chance, but hell, now I'm worried that I'm really dull. Listening to myself drone on about all this life crap is just annoying.