  Pretty uneventful weekend due to the fact that I have some killer sleeping pills. I wanted to hit the church but I was afraid the ceilings would cave in. Instead I decided to suffer and enlighten through a chain restaurant meal and Ephesians. Church would have been better, and they serve wine.
The three things I must accomplish this week are: unpack an overnight bag from four weeks ago, laundry and change guitar strings. Life is criminally easy. Rule: Don't eat in chain restaurants. My personal link to insanity besides what the doctors, my relatives and all my friends tell me, has finally destructed. I am finally learning from my mistakes. I think I really did get struck by lightning a few days ago. It has done nothing for my sex life, but I don't make the same mistakes over and over expecting a different result every time. So to you from Richmond who expect me to drop everything just because you have finally realized what a fantastic woman I am, get real.
I hate to see a man make a bad business decision, and letting me cross the state line was poor fiscal planning on your part. I have put a lot of thought into it...I can't wait to uproot my insanely fun life here to go home and be your wife. I could learn to can food, field dress animals and not expect you home for a few days because I am sure that I am the only one who has managed to outlive my mistakes. And I am pretty sure you would fuck it up pretty soon after I got home. Then I think I would probably burn your house down and steal your dog since you never come home to take care of them you drunk bastard. You might be able to get laid if you got off the bourbon long enough to get a hard on. I might have moved on to a hottie, but at least I didn't fuck all your friends...but if I come home and become disappointed, that is exactly what I am going to do.
And when you are stuck in the hunting blinds or on a fishing boat with your buddies, they can all tell you how great I am in bed. You already know it is true, so it will eat you alive. It's a slower death than beating you senseless or slowly poisoning you or me not coming home. It will take a lot more than declarations of undying love every couple of months for me to come running home to your roaming arms.
Oh yeah, you better buy a bigger boat, and expect me to redecorate so not everything in the room is centered around the television. Oh yeah, and you need a cd player that plays more than one disk at a time. Between making the good old boys sausage before a hunt (4:30am) or after a long hunting/fishing day (11:30pm) and changing cd's for those sorry taste in music having bastards, I get real tired.
And you are not allowed to play my guitar. I'm not going to get married to you, I don't care how many presidents you are related to. I might not even vote republican this year just to hurt your feelings. If I manage to change my mind (in case you come running down here with a large diamond ring set in hand crafted platinum, which I wouldn't put past you, and you could already be on your way), let me warn you that next time we shoot skeet or go bird hunting, sit behind me. Love always, Stephanielee 
