Sorry I haven't been on lately. I've been boring. Bored and boring. Too boring for even me.
Every day is work. Sleep and work and sleep. Tried to cook some chicken yesterday. Madison's foray into big-girl food. Burned everything. Even the carrots I tried to steam. Pathetic.
Linda and I have been getting along for what it's worth. Not worth much. She talks about cats a lot. Too much. I wish we buried them like the ancient Egyptians. I'd bury her with them. She'd probably love it.
Only thing that breaks up my day is coffee. Task. Coffee. Reward and punishment.
Put the stinking, rotting donated clothes in the laundry. Cup number one. Shelve a bunch of decaying romance novels with pages that stick together. Cup number two. Deal with woman trying to haggle her way down from five dollars on some piece of crap that was probably dragged out of a filthy corner of someone's garage. Cups number three and four. I get two cups for that. Madison's reward for good word. The meek will inherit caffeine.
Probably not supposed to take so many breaks. Don't care. Linda hasn't been on me. Think she's got a boyfriend. Must be nice to have a boyfriend. I can hardly remember what it's like. What I do remember wasn't good. Lots of yelling. Lots of looking in the mirror and wondering if I was too fat for love. No good. Love is for pretty people with no problems.
Went to dinner with Sam again a couple of weeks ago. That was fun. Went to see Green Lantern at the dollar theater with Zooey. Not my type of movie, but Zooey is fun so it was too.
Hazy. Everything feels so hazy. Maybe it's the heat. Time passes slowly. Clocks like a Dali panting. No room to grow when space-time melts.
I need a hobby. I'd garden but I kill everything I touch. Maybe needlepoint. Maybe woodworking. Maybe acupuncture for all I care at this point.
Need a friend. Need a love. More than that, need a goal. My former, "Don't Fuck Up Your Life" is too easily met. Which is nice but boring. So tired of being bored.
Thinking of watching Titanic. Thinking of taking a walk. I'll probably just sit here and have cups six and seven. Maybe even eight.
Sometimes I think the mundane is worse then the painful. Not always. Mostly when I'm not in pain. I forget what it feels like. The itch seems worse than the broken bone once the arm has been set.
Being resolutely average just seems harder to shake. Like smoke from the cigarette you sneak in the bathroom. It clings to the skin longer.
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