Well, here we are. Or, rather, here I am, since it’s just me. There is no we. Unless I count y’all, which I guess I should, since you’re reading.

Another weekend gone, but I get a bonus day, so that only means I procrastinated from Saturday what I will now need to do tomorrow. Namely, an oil change. I’m gonna make it worthwhile, though, and treat myself to lunch somewhere good.

So I come to you tonight, begging grace and forgiveness, because I’m afraid y’all are gonna revoke my Southerner card. Because, look here now, I made instant potatoes.

And they were goooooo-ooooood. I’ve got no lies to tell. They’re already on my list for next time. Why did I ever spend time peeling, washing, boiling, draining, mashing, seasoning, and working in butter and milk for *real* mashed potatoes? For just me? These are real, too, it says so right on the bag. And they took maybe five minutes.

I really don’t know what else to report on. I have got to finish my book tonight, it goes back tomorrow. White Noise, if you’re interested, by Don Dellio or something like that. I’m too lazy to look. I’m sure I’ve got the spelling close enough and you could find it. Lester recommended it and I liked it at first but now it’s just weird. I’m at 83% and truly nothing much has happened. It’s a National Book Award winner, so I should have known better. I swore off those back in 2015 because every one I picked up sucked. But it was too late for this one, I was already several chapters in when I realized it and I thought it was gonna be different. It is not. But I’m this far, and I’ve only finished one book this year 😳. They’re all just dragging on with me. I used to read two or three a week. No longer. It’s more like one a month. I don’t know what my major malfunction is, as Cynthia would say.

I could eat something but nothing too big. I had an early supper and now here it is, 9:30, and I’m wishing for like, a tiny taco or two. Maybe some guac. Better to go to bed slightly hungry than overly full, I suppose. I did pilfer a slice of bacon bound for for bacon bits, three grapes past their prime, and two buffalo crackers. We’ll say it was a personal charcuterie. I was too shiftless to carve me off a chunk of cheese.

I wanted to write a poem, but poems are a little tricky. It’s about a girl, in love with a guy, but of course he’s the wrong guy and he knows it but she doesn’t.

I can see
From the outside in
Knowing him
He will break you
Effortlessly 
Do not love him
The less attention you give
Is better
Run free while you can
He is not the one
He forgets you exist
Do you not see
He does not think of you
He will not help you
He does not care
Callous
Already tired of your adoration 
He is that way
You will never be 
Young enough
Pretty enough
Strong enough
Tall enough
Worthy
In his eyes
Don’t bother
He wants one
To do it all
Welcome to the show
Now stand back and applaud
And try not to get run over
As he steps off the stage
All smiles
For the bigger 
More important 
More lucrative
Fans 
He twirls his cape
Elvis in his mind
A legend
And you are not even Priscilla
And why would you want to be

I have GOT to finish this book.

Goodnight (or maybe good morning) from Appalachia,

~Amy