the ghost of andy

Tonight is a huge fundraiser for the political campaign on which I've been working. I'll spend my afternoon moving tables, chairs, food, plates, glasses and everything heavy you can imagine. I'm fine with it, though. Christina is the one everyone will blame if something goes wrong; she's catering the whole thing. Needless to say, she's been anxious. Not that she didn't put this on herself, though. Her taking such an active role stems from her inability to say 'no' to anybody but me. This way we're giving more to the campaign than we could possibly provide monitarily so I'm truly grateful and while xtina has been hard to be comfortable around, it's worth it.

Last night I had a dream the xtina and I were at Jason's wedding reception and we were seated at the same table as andy warhol. He insisted, though, that we call him 'John.' And not just 'John,' but 'John Warhol.' He made everyone little glass sculptures and I told the other guests at the table that I'd seen better work from him in his past. What an asshole. Don't worry, the ghost of andy warhol doesn't decend upon me in my sleep on a regular basis.

I'm still nervous about the move, I don't need to write another post about it. Sometimes I lay awake at night and I resolve to tell xtina that we can't move, that we'd be giving too much up and I always talk myself out of it the next day. I wish I had a good job here. I simply don't feel good about it. I'm not excited at all anymore. Xtina is going to have a long talk with me when she reads this tomorrow. She'll cry, and I'll back off.