So we come up with this brilliant idea to move me into the back bedroom.  I’ve been in the hole of a front bedroom since I moved back to Arizona, and the back one is so much bigger.  It will be like we both have two rooms.  Lovely idea, no problem with it.  But, I wasn’t really planning on going through with the whole thing.  I mean, moving stuff fucking sucks. 

I also have a problem with sleeping new places alone.  I haven’t slept in the back bedroom since before I moved to Virginia, and I had Jay with me back then.  But I come home Thursday night and the move (of the bed at least) has been made for me.  I’m exhausted and thinking, okay, I’ll just pass out and won’t even know the difference.  But, I’m lacking a few things.  The stereo for one.  You expect me to sleep in silence?  WTF?  And it’s WAY too dark in there, this will need to be remedied. 

But I lay down to give it a solid try, and the first thought that enters my head: “He made me stop watching John Edwards because of this.”

Many years ago I did nothing but sleep.  I didn’t go to work, I didn’t leave my house, all I did was sleep or lay on the couch.  I had my mom and boyfriend Jay there to take care of me all the time.  Since I didn’t leave my house I began watching LOTS of tv.  Trading Spaces (I can’t even STAND that show now) and shows about ghosts.  And people who talked to ghosts.  And shows about haunted places.

The middle of the night once, I actually had to wake Jay up because of the ghosts.  It was on that day he made me give up the ghost shows, all of them.  And that night is the first thing I think of when I lay down in that room.  I should have hit the couch.