Walter Beach Humphrey, originally uploaded by ondiraiduveau.

The phone kept ringing all week, and it was my mother nearly every time. I’ve been going through a phase of intense apathy mixed with an incredible lack of energy, so I didn’t answer the phone, didn’t call her back. This afternoon the phone was ringing again, and there were a couple of numbers I didn’t recognize but with my mother’s area code, which the Boy joked was my mother calling from her neighbor’s house. Then she started calling the Boy’s phone. After begging him to call her back (he refused) I finally called her.

“Oh, thank God,” she sighed. “Remember when you used to not answer your phone, what you were doing?”

“What was I doing?” I knew very well what I was doing.

“Drinking!”

“I’m not drinking,” I groaned, re-adjusting the blanket covering my lap and shifting slightly from my horizontal position on the couch to reach for more cookies. No, there’s no reasonable explanation for my three-hour naps, snarfing of sugar, and complete lack of interest in anything creative. It’s not a hangover. Not even depression, really. Just: MER. Or even: merp plerp blee-terp.

We watched documentaries on skateboarders today. Skateboarders make me moist. Especially the old school footage. I can watch that shit for DAYS.