It’s amazing just how much memory one loses for the ‘little things’ when one starts going off the rails. In a way, slipping in and out of mental stability is like losing and winning on the stock exchange or something.
I very much believed my stocks to be low, at present till a brief search of my very neglected bedroom turned out the following things: a small bottle of one of my favourite shower gels from a pal in the States (and I’ve run out of it too!), an expired 2-for-1 pass to see Transamerica which came with my Victorian Writers’ Centre membership, drat!. I’m going to see a film with a friend today. Grrr.
Lastly, I still fit into my size 6 French Connection jeans. Not looking as trim as I’d like, but that can be fixed, hopefully.
Oh, and apparently I couldn’t be with Lisa Loeb even if I wanted to be: I think she wants her kids raised Jewish. Are there any Jewish lesbian couples, I wonder? Or is that frowned upon? There’s so much I don’t know about their culture, sigh. She wants them the biological way too, so again that rules me out as a life consort. Bummer!
Wince, on Sex and the City, Charlotte is looking into converting and is flustered by the way the rabbi keeps slamming the door on her. Apparently, they like to force you into having to beg or pester.
Hmm, my ex was born into a Jewish family, he rarely hassles people but prefers to have them hassle him. The plot thickens…
