Diva Eve

I'm going to pretend like this is just a normal night. I'm going to crawl in bed soon with my book that I'll end up reading the same paragraph over and over and still not know what it says. I'm going to pretend that it is every morning that I wake up to read about myself in the newspaper. Yep.

Under no circumstances will I admit that I will be tossing and turning all night long waiting to hear the thud of the paper land in the driveway unto when heard, I will rise on the coldest morning of the last five years and creep outside in my bathrobe, rip the plastic sheath and read the story in the glow of the moonlight while my toes (I presume I still have 10) freeze to the concrete. I will simply lie to all of my friends when they call in the morning that no, I'd forgotten all about it, and is it in today's paper? Really? I'll have to take a look later if I get around to it, meanwhile I have purchased every copy in a 10 block radius after 17 cups of coffee and a half dozen donuts.

Okay, the donut part is a lie because I just had the most depressing doctor's visit to date, and donuts--and everything else but lettuce leaves and tap water--are off of the diva menu until October. And even worse, now I have to start going every 2 weeks so my monthly humiliation has now just doubled itself. Yippee skippy.

All right, I'm going to pretend to sleep now.