#justusunicorns

It’s been a while - I’ve been busy & slightly losing my mind and all the things you know about already. Thoughts of you are a becoming an ugly scar across my palm.

I wish I could talk to you right now, because I’m about to fling my computer out the window in rage and frustration. I no longer believe that this is easy and every word on the page is like pulling teeth. There’s just so much baggage, Lex, and it’s dragging at me. I’m considering giving it all up and becoming an accountant.

Except that I’m awful at math, and nitpicky details really aren’t my thing.

So.

The other night, I saw a constellation I didn’t recognize and wanted to ask you about it. (I could have used your StarAtlas.com but it hurt to think about)

Despite news reports to the contrary, Richard Simmons is adamant he is not being held captive in his home. He just hasn’t left it much in the past two years. I can hear your howls of laughter and commentary on the foibles of plastic surgery.

Someone changed the sign outside the farm and garden store from “Roto-tillers for your garden!” to “Anal!”. You would be impressed with their ingenuity and determination, and we would have spent the rest of the day trading homoerotic gardening references.

I just drank some coffee from the grocery store -- I was desperate and in a rush. I had to use CoffeeMate and now I feel slightly ill every sip I take. You’d be making comparisions about it being the Devil’s semen. I’d agree.

My puppy is the most wonderful idiot dog. I’d be sending you pictures from our walks, just like you used to send me with Idiot Dog.

My ear hurts today -- too much pressure building behind my Eustachian tube and I wish you were here to commiserate with, because I bet your ear would be hurting now, too. Eustachian Tube Dysfunctioners, unite! (and then complain loudly about our damn ears.)

Kong dog toys look like sex toys and I can’t unsee it, and I wish you were here to send a photo of them to, because that would start you off on a hilarious spiral of sending me photos of things that look like sex toys but actually *aren’t*. And I’d think you’d be finished, and then three days from now, when I was feeling tired and blue, you’d randomly send me a photo of a phallic dish scrubber, and I’d feel better.

I’ve been using your star atlas more often these past few days. It seems Venus, Mars, Jupiter and the Moon are in alignment this week, and I’ve been out before sunrise every single morning watching them and thinking of you.

I can’t find the links to the risque gay christmas ornaments I teased you I was going to send you, but I did find a Tom’s of Finland 13″ anatomically correct poseable doll, with three detachable penises and two detachable sets of feet. Also includes “matching condoms for you and Tom!” and this worries and delights me all at the same time. I wish I could decide what I think your response would be.

I’m getting ready to write that thing that you helped me plot out years ago. I wish you were here to bounce ideas off, because I need help on things ranging from astrophysics to penile misadventures to science-y acronyms, and you’re the man who would handle all of those with aplomb.