Getting the bugs out

I was going to have a salad tonight.

Broke out the lettuce to find a bug sitting in there wiggling at me.

No salad.

Too late to go to the store on the corner and get more; I could have walked to Albertson's, except it was midnight, and there was where we got the buggy lettuce in the first place.

Spaghetti is sounding less and less appealing. I have a cold plateful sitting in the microwave. I don't want to touch it.

...I want to be beautiful.

Something about the humidity today makes me feel potentially beautiful, so I'm leaving the patio glass door open so it can drift in with the beautiful smell of rain. Adam isn't home yet. He was at Bald Guy's, and wasn't going to leave until he got the computer system up and running.

I'm waiting up. I don't know why. I'm fucked in the head.

I want to be beautiful again.

There are all these supermodels out there. I don't want to look like them. I want to look like me.

I might be looking like myself someday. Perhaps. Perhaps never.

night

Sleep calls me, more sweetly than last night. Perfume of candles dreams me away; the air is soft and wet after the cleansing rain.

I won't have to wake, tomorrow morning; I can sleep as long as I need.

Spaghetti goes back to the fridge gods.

My eating habits are getting weird.

Every now and then, my body likes to pull weird shit on me and like to eat or not eat weird stuff.

Today I know I had orange juice for breakfast. Then I may or may not have eaten spaghetti, leftover. I think I did. There must have been some more breakfast or lunch in there, but I spaced it. I had an apple and a burger for dinner, then some ice cream when I got home. I tried spaghetti, but my body insisted that it wanted salad. This was a bad second choice to the leftover lunch meat that had been in there, but had been "cleaned" by Votania the human vacuum cleaner by the time I got home. Ah well, such are the fortunes of war. No pickles of the right sort, either, so tuna salad was right out. By the time I realized that frozen green beans would have done as well, I was too firmly rooted in the couch to get up again.

Another glass of orange juice, and now bed.

don't think he's coming home tonight.

i was looking forward to seeing him.

expectations are so easily crushed, and with it my heart.

I shouldn't be awake this late anyway.

Sanity has not ever been my strong point. I swear, I need a babysitter 24-7 ... it would break Darkside's heart, anyway, if I were to kill myself. Can't break Darkside's heart. He'd never forgive me.

Some men, you start out wanting to smack over the head. The others have to work their way to attaining that.

Somewhat better.

Adam was late getting home last night (this morning) because he and Bald Guy were working on Bald Guy's mom's computer systems.

We talked. Not exactly sure what is going on.

*rolls eyes* I shouldn't have had to say this the first time...

Under no circumstances do you ever do a Working for the aid of another person without that person's permission. Period.