(no subject)
Dear Diary,
Yesterday morning I woke up a little late for some reason and blurrily stumbled into the kitchen to reach into the dishwasher and pull out a dirty mug and fill it with coffee and creamer and drink it and then do that again and then realize some time later that the dishes in the dishwasher were not clean yet.
This morning I was running (for no reason, at all) through the basement after switching the laundry and stepped somehow onto a fancy toothpick which stuck itself onto my sock and on the next full forced step unknowingly drove it about 3/4 of an inch directly into my foot. I tried to no avail to pull it out of my foot for at least 4 or 5 whole minutes before deciding to hobble/crawl upstairs and ask my father-in-law to pull it out for me. He struggled a bit and I may or may not have whimpered. Before it bled; now it's bruised.
This evening Philomena spilt finger-paints onto our off-white rug and I haven't been able to get the colors out.
Later I decided that every once in a while when things get so confusing that I can't make sense of them anymore I have to take a short trip to the bay because the bay always reminds me that not much has really changed and not much time has really passed and things are basically still just as they've always been and that makes everything sort of make sense again for a while. Until it doesn't anymore and I'll have to go back.
Yesterday morning I woke up a little late for some reason and blurrily stumbled into the kitchen to reach into the dishwasher and pull out a dirty mug and fill it with coffee and creamer and drink it and then do that again and then realize some time later that the dishes in the dishwasher were not clean yet.
This morning I was running (for no reason, at all) through the basement after switching the laundry and stepped somehow onto a fancy toothpick which stuck itself onto my sock and on the next full forced step unknowingly drove it about 3/4 of an inch directly into my foot. I tried to no avail to pull it out of my foot for at least 4 or 5 whole minutes before deciding to hobble/crawl upstairs and ask my father-in-law to pull it out for me. He struggled a bit and I may or may not have whimpered. Before it bled; now it's bruised.
This evening Philomena spilt finger-paints onto our off-white rug and I haven't been able to get the colors out.
Later I decided that every once in a while when things get so confusing that I can't make sense of them anymore I have to take a short trip to the bay because the bay always reminds me that not much has really changed and not much time has really passed and things are basically still just as they've always been and that makes everything sort of make sense again for a while. Until it doesn't anymore and I'll have to go back.