We didn't have dates this weekend, so I was sort of hoping that I'd get to have a "morning visit" today. I had this sexy dream with Willow in it, and no, I can't remember much of it, but any dream with Willow is a good dream, kna'mean? So I was hoping to make use of that post-Willow umminess in a Start Your Day Right kind of way. We'd even discussed the possibilities of a morning visit after dinner last night.

So I got up on time (5:40 � Thanks, new alarm clock! In the tradition of PeeWee Herman, I will name it Clockie.) Walked the dog, took a shower, got dressed, cleaned out the litter box, read the comics, made my lunch to take to work, and sat down in the living room to wait for Jake to get in her truck and leave. I knew she would leave early because I'd seen their lights on early.

And I waited. Truck's still there. Why isn't she leaving? Deb got up to pee and asked me if I'd gotten a morning visit. "No. Jake hasn't left yet." Truck's still there. At five minutes 'til 8�the time I'm supposed to leave for work�I was still thinking that if Jake left right now I could still go over and get a kiss and a grope. But the truck's still there. At five minutes after 8, I remembered that Jake had planned to ride the motorcycle today.

DOOOOHHHHHHHHH!

I cannot describe how disappointed in myself I felt. We went through extra channel flipping last night just to check out the weather to see if it would be a good motorcycle riding day today. Garg.

I do not understand why my brain cells just don't function well, other than to fear that I'm going to inherit my grandmother's dementia at an early age. I know people who've smoked bales of pot over their lifetime who have much better short-term memory than I do. I've smoked, like, part of two joints in my life.

I think it's gotten worse since I've quit smoking. I know that my productivity has gone down since I quit. I was talking about this with Sara yesterday. I've lost the structure of my days, so instead of starting and completing tasks, I mostly just amble around from one distraction to another now. I used to use cigarettes as motivations and rewards. e.g. I'll smoke a cigarette, and then I'll balance my checkbook. Or, I'll vacuum the living room, and then I can smoke. Or, I'm stuck on this one part of my writing, so I'll go have a smoke and think about it, and when I get back I'll be able to finish. For instance, I've had my Interview questions for months now and still haven't been able to finish it.

I'm not doing well at work either. My levels of procrastination are astonishingly pathetic. I'm getting stuff done, but it's not until I absolutely have to or else somebody is going to come kick my butt and ask me what the hell I've been doing with my time.

I'm telling ya, "I'll finish editing these three articles and then I can have an Altoid" just doesn't do the job. If any of my readers is one of those new-fangled motivation coaches who also happens to understand what motivates a butch dyke like me, please drop me a line. I've got to get out of this rut.

In other Rancho news, my sisters are coming to visit at the end of this month. That will rock. My dyke sister's lover will also be coming, as will my straight sister's best friend who always goes on our annual vacation. So it will be like a little pre-beach vacation get together. What we're going to do with them while they're here, I don't know. I don't think we'll be giving the attic tour that we've given to the D-landers who've come to visit. My sisters don't want to know that much about me. I wouldn't want to know that much about them. (shudder)

The best dinner conversation last night came from discussing how well Rancho Lesbiano family would do if thrown into a Frontier House type situation.

Deb: [plow, plant, weed, harvest, cook, clean, build] This isn't so hard. [clean, cook, stomp grapes into wine, sew clothes, sweat, drop from exhaustion]
Badsnake: I am one with the wood ... [slam ax down and completely miss wood] ... ow. I'm not doing this any more. Honey, you have to chop the wood. And while you're at it, could you stitch up my foot?
Sara: [walks around in circles with crazed look in eyes from lack of Internet hook-up and book deprivation.]
Jake: Noooooo! You can't kill Jo Jo Punkin'! We're all vegetarians now!
Deb: Well, okay. [Goes off to harvest soybean field, stomp beans into tofu.]
Badsnake: We need to make some spending money somehow so I can buy tobacco seeds like they did in "Sommersby". Let's sell Sara's body to the other Frontier House husbands.
Sara: Thank, God! Something to do!

How would your household do on the frontier?