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January 26, 2005
more than a wasp can sting
I was just downstairs sitting on the floor in the library trying to find a poem to memorize for my class tomorrow. I'd rejected practically everything, when I opened an volume of Ogden Nash I'd forgotten I owned. Tucked between two pages was an old photo of me and Tom. In it, I'm sitting on his lap on a sofa I don't recognize. I'm obviously attempting to give him a wet willie or something, as he has one hand across my throat and has got hold of my wrist with the other. I'm wearing those ridiculous round glasses and my hair is cut short like a boy's. I'm so young and thin and happy. Tom looks happy, too, or at least entertained.
I feel like I've just been slapped. Is it too early to start drinking?
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