A breath of wind

“Today I felt pass over me
A breath of wind from the wings of madness.”
~ Charles Baudelaire

If my maternal grandfather were still alive, Thursday would have been his 124th birthday – he was born in 1886. If I remember Grandpa right (he died just after my 2nd birthday), he wouldn’t be happy about that number. He’d ask someone how old he was, they would answer “124” and he would call them a bloody liar. He’d ask the next person the same question, get the same answer and still be just as frustrated.

I take after my grandpa that way, my family tells me.

They say the definition of insanity is doing things the same way every time but expecting different results. Curious.

OK, truth be known … I don’t know what to do about Chris. I’m thrilled to have spent time with him and even more thrilled that it sounds like more time will be spent together in the future (many references to ‘next time this’ and ‘next time that’). I’m not in a hurry, honestly. I don’t know how much I trust him or how much faith I should put in his word and the only way I can find out is to let time tell. If you’ve been reading my drivel for more than a week you gotta know I’m not a patient woman by nature, so I’ll most likely be writing a metric fuckton about how it’s hard for me to sit on my hands when all I want to do is get my hands down his pants.

What? Just being honest. And of course seeing if you’re paying attention.

Not giving as much of a crap about it seems like an easier way out.