Simba, mental health super secret agent

. . . and smelling like teen spirit if teen spirit has that distinct stank of a t-shirt infused with the b.o. produced from stress sweat when you arrive at Boston airport and ask the guy at the information desk which shuttle bus to take to the economy lot and he replies,

him: which lot are you in?

me: um, B?

him: *blank stare*

me: *with more confidence* C?

him: there is no B or C. There?s 2, 3, and 4 -- just check your ticket.

me: Er, *mumbling*, left it in the car--

him: *gesturing with thumb behind him* Perhaps you?ll have more luck with the fortune telling booth over there?she specializes in ESP.

me: *adrenals switch to full-on, sweat production, high*

But, no worries. Found my car. Arrived home (after some annoying detours due to the Sumner Tunnel being closed -- !!!closed!! who closes a major artery!!??!)?

(private note to Boston: you are being such a dick to me right now).

Saturday night I went on line and instead of opening my email first, I came here and was greeted by the deafening silence. Because I always make assumptions and take everything personally, I imagined my last post sent you all to the four corners of the Internet with your eyes burning--- oh the drama! The self-pity! There are filaments wider than your world view!

The odd thing, it didn't make me feel badly?I am always, eternally, surprised that so many of you take the time to comment here. It was just, you know, I do take great comfort in our communication (bizarre and anonymous and 21st century as it is) and I was very emotionally raw when I wrote that last post so it was more of a ?huh?, guess that was a bit TMI for you all, but whatever. And then, when I opened my email and found so many of you concerned that I had 'deleted' your comments and wondering if I had misunderstood your care and concern, etc.

GAH. No. Never.

Let me just say for the record, unless you are encouraging me to enlarge my penis, have hottS*X with pussyluvin sex crazed creatures, or purchase large quantities of pharmaceuticals I can neither spell nor pronounce, I do not delete your comment. Ever. Never. In fact, as I think about it, I have been extraordinarily lucky insofar as I have never had a troll leave its yick trailing behind. No doubt, people come through this site, take a read and move on never to return, but fortunately, they are developmentally advanced enough not to hurl invective on their way out the door.

So?to anyone who might have left a comment in the past couple of days, I am so sorry not to have received them. They have traveled into the ether, I?m afraid. I asked my husband web guru to look into what was going on and it turns out, I had my own mini-Y2K experience here this weekend, folks. You see, when T built this site for me lo, these four years ago, he put in some arbitrary limit for comments?and we had crossed that electronic divide on Friday. The good news is, T fixed it and I?m good for another couple years of comments.

It feels good to be home--- I have a lot of emotional turmoil to sort through as I try to get back into the rhythm of my own life that had just underwent its own turbulent upheaveal, so here I sit, drinking coffee?gazing thither and yon?once I?ve cleared my head, I?ll be back with updates and what not.

P.S. hypothetically, if some girls in some imaginary college dorm found a stray kitten and between six of them kept it and nurtured it and raised--hypothetically, if caught, they will all get into heaps of big trouble. Which is too bad, because if college administrators really wanted to help kids deal with homesickness and other emotional ailments?cats and dogs can really do wonders. I mean, I understand they should limit the dorm or floor or whatever due to allergies and other people?s needs who don?t like animals?but seriously, if you could see the wellness this little guy (er, this HYPOTHETICAL little guy) is bringing to one animal-loving girl?you would agree with me, college administrations should get progressive on this.

got 2 cents?