wait

Staying the night at Dan's, again. I hate my new place. It's little and smells old and there are bugs. Not big ones, little summer mountain bugs. But still. But still!

Successfully moved. Anxiously awaiting security deposit. Anxiously awaiting news of when my interview with EPIK will be (I got an interview!).

Life has been mostly quiet lately and I am kind of OK with that and kind of not. Sometimes I want to go out and rage and get shit faced and go crazy and yell and dance but for the most part that seems like too much time/money/effort, when I could just hang out with Dan and watch the Sopranos and eat PB&Js. Yes, I am lame. Working this much makes me not want to do anything else.

I got grabbed by a woman at work the other day, forcibly by the wrist, completely inappropriately. Nothing was meant on her part, and she probably didn't think about it at the time nor since, but I have never wanted to punch a grown woman in the face as much as at that moment. Do not touch me. DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. I don't care how much goddamn money your husband has. I think I was too shocked to do anything at the time but stand, grunt, and try not to let out my sudden inner rage.

Planning a much needed girl reunion with Kelly, Jodie, and Whitney. Beach vay-cay in July. If I can't get time off I think I will just quit a month early. Whatever. Fuck that place.

Last night Dan and I road down 194 in the dark listening to REM and then a playlist I picked out which involved depressing songs like Smashing Pumpkin's cover of 'Landslide' and 'Maps' by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and blah blah blah. This was all such bad timing. Shit. Shit shit shit. I'm going to miss my little old man like fucking whoa.

blahblahblah. I have tomorrow off. To do: sort clothes and organize shoebox room, drop backseat full of shit off at Goodwill, go to espresso and watch documentaries and work on sock dolls, make art, hang out with old man, movie night.