Margo: Isn't this a great weather day? Can this day be any better?
Adrian: no, it can't be. It feels like the sun has been making out with you all day, you know? Especially around 3 or 4.
I had a dream this week in which I had cancer and was going to die in three days. A spot had been found on my lungs. I only told my family, and we didn't know what to do and they love me so much but I'm not sure we could even really cry. I still came in to work. I glared at a vacuous member of the administration, who was vapidly going on about the new colors of the walls and being a team. I did not want to die, but my lung was giving out.
Tuesday I followed three of my coworkers to Revere beach, drinking wine handed to me by Meils in the backseat on the way there. "Who is this person?" asked LauntyLaunt. The label read: RELAX. Towels, sand. Drunk sounds of the waves crashing. We drank every time we saw an airplane - and they did come, right out of Logan Airport. I said "guys, let's go swim! The ocean is beckoning us!" "beckoning? It's BECKONING us T---?" but they did come. World flipped me into the water, I pinched my nose so the salt wouldn't rush into my nostrils, joyously bobbing with the waves. I'm a terrible swimmer but that doesn't matter when the moon is full and you've had too much Corona.
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