beulahbondo's Diaryland Diary

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Is it sinusitis?

Someone please just drill a couple of holes in my head and make the pressure go away...I feel like I'm deep underwater in a diving bell. Even the tips of my ears hurt. And on Friday I have to fly to San Francisco. Can I ship my head separately, packed in ice?

Serious.

I drove down to the Cape today to spend some time with the presh nephews and their parents and grandparents. Little Scrap is cuter than ever and his hair has turned soft and curly and bright blonde. Curly is still chattering like a chipmunk. Two neighborhood girls came over to raise money for a relay for the American Cancer Society and Curly just couldn't stop thinking about the idea of raising money to help people. It was hard to understand what he was saying but basically he wants to raise money to help people who need an ambulance but can't afford one.

Brother was typically doinkish ("We're having turkey for dinner. We don't have anything else. We didn't know you were coming. You're always so vague about your plans.") (Pretending he did not get my message this morning that I was on my way) but we have to excuse it this time because he's having surgery tomorrow. He told me not to visit him in the hospital but I will anyway.

Oh, and the two dum-dum subletters got their act together and produced an actual check, so that worry is resolved.

I got Bacchus hired as a counselor where I'm working, with the international teens. He'll be good at telling them in espanol all about abolitionists and Walt Whitman and, I hope, to go to bed. I dreamed that the program turned out to be actually a therapeutic camp for deeply screwed up teenagers, and there was a counselor whose only job was to provide special cued-up sneezes during therapy sessions. The sneezes, at different volumes and in different tones, were meant to prompt repressed memories. I found out that the sneeze counselor made $180 an hour and I was mad because I'm making so much less and I have to read spreadsheets.

12:21 a.m. - 2006-05-30

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