Just a Note
I am spending all of tomorrow in complete and utter denial of what day it is.
I will not be waiting anxiously for 6pm.
If I am online, I will be reading porn, and not refreshing a certain website.
In fact, I will contrive to not be online at all tomorrow around 6pm.
If I have to, I will go out shopping and burn a hole in my credit card, because shopping is good therapy and I want to go to Old Navy and buy cute capris and shirts. This might be difficult because I will not have a car, but I can hope. Or shop online. Wait. No. Not online. Bad.
I am not thinking of tomorrow. At all. I'm not.
I am going to go to bed tonight and fall asleep and dream of happy things. I will not be tossing and turning all night until I feel like gnawing my arm off.
I have a half pint of Cookie Doughn't You Want Some ice cream left. I will be eating it tomorrow. All of it. As needed.
I'm still not thinking.
Nope.
Not at all.
Don't ask me about it either. Because I'm not thinking about it. At all. You can look at my tags for this entry and that should explain everything.
In fact, don't reply to this entry at all unless it concerns porn. Or boysex. Or tentacles. Or other such happy and mindless things. Or puppies. Or fluffy bunnies. That counts, too.
I will not be waiting anxiously for 6pm.
If I am online, I will be reading porn, and not refreshing a certain website.
In fact, I will contrive to not be online at all tomorrow around 6pm.
If I have to, I will go out shopping and burn a hole in my credit card, because shopping is good therapy and I want to go to Old Navy and buy cute capris and shirts. This might be difficult because I will not have a car, but I can hope. Or shop online. Wait. No. Not online. Bad.
I am not thinking of tomorrow. At all. I'm not.
I am going to go to bed tonight and fall asleep and dream of happy things. I will not be tossing and turning all night until I feel like gnawing my arm off.
I have a half pint of Cookie Doughn't You Want Some ice cream left. I will be eating it tomorrow. All of it. As needed.
I'm still not thinking.
Nope.
Not at all.
Don't ask me about it either. Because I'm not thinking about it. At all. You can look at my tags for this entry and that should explain everything.
In fact, don't reply to this entry at all unless it concerns porn. Or boysex. Or tentacles. Or other such happy and mindless things. Or puppies. Or fluffy bunnies. That counts, too.