(no subject)
Maybe I ought to just drink more. People drive me less crazy when I can't process anything more complicated than getting the cap off my beer. For fuck's sake. Just now, Moth and I were having a fairly good time: I wasn't annoyed with him, and he was in a decent mood and not yakking at me in dead languages. We go outside to smoke a cigarette, and Jonathan calls. We chat for three minutes tops about Puerto Rico, sunburn, and iTunes being a bitch. Well, that was a good fifteen minutes ago and Moth is still outside. He is sulking.
*sighs*
Four and a half weeks till he moves out, and 93 days until I leave my job and can go home. Neither can come soon enough.
*sighs*
Four and a half weeks till he moves out, and 93 days until I leave my job and can go home. Neither can come soon enough.