So, I did that thing where you type in your name plus "needs" into a search engine just to see what pops up.
Boy, am I glad my name is Claire.
The first one was "Claire needs a visit to the bunny planet," which is, I believe, the title of a story by Peter Balestrieri.
"Claire needs private support"... "Claire needs Facebook"... "Claire needs a boyfriend"... "Claire needs help"... and, my favorite, "Claire needs booze to kiss."
All these things, which, to be fair, are fairly universal things to need... and none of them are really what I need right now, I think.
I need some good, anti-thesis, worship music. I need downtown time.
Incidentally, I went to sleep joyfully praising God... and then I dreamed that I had a birthday party that was really horrible, one of my secret minor crushes was there, looking very suavely grungy and vaguely European, and he was flirting with a high school student ("Don't you know that's illegal?") Mrs. Bell moved to Atlanta (without Mr. Bell and all the children) ("Don't you know you're not cut out to be a heartless, Atlanta-living career woman? Whatever happened to Bellhaven?") and nobody would swing dance with me except my dad. Fortunately, he was remarkably spry in my subconscious. And at least I spoke my mind.
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