i hate it when
it happens.
i'm also anxious, because despite going to the doctor; receiving antibiotic medication and Tetanus shot (for puncturing my foot at our Bonnaroo camp site, the last day we were there); returning clothing at kmart and walmart; buying groceries, gardening supplies and lunch, i feel that i've been productive, that i've not done anything all day.
and i feel that i should write detailed journal entries of my Thur-Sun. weekend at Bonnaroo and I still have to finish my secret Davis entry ... i find such writing tedious: i don't care about reviewing the past and i don't know why. i feel that i should, but i only really care about the present. i care about the future so much as trying to ensure it won't be bad, but i could die any day, so it seems relatively insignificant.
well, mom's currently recounting the story of the topless druggie girl and her guy at Bonnaroo; time to go elsewhere. (she's going over all the things she disliked at Hippyville and it is discussed ad nauseum.)