yesterday, i was so good. i went straight home and avoided all food and spent 3 hours fixing my computer. i got the USB2.0 thingy loaded a-ok (when i first bought it, i spent 2 hours trying to get it to work. 4 months later, it finally does. anyway) and i was all set and ready to hook up the cd burner when i realized i had left it at my apartment.
the night went downhill yesterday after we got home from the hurricane and i asked his other roommate's if they wanted me to pay rent. i was expecting them to say fuck yes, but one of them got extremely catty. so now i'm paying $435 for my shitty apartment, when i'm only there for 20 minutes at a time to move stuff into my car, as well as $280 for a shitty basement.
i was proud of myself when, mid-computer fixin, i spied a daddylonglegs right fucking next to me. after screaming bloody murder and shivering and running around in circles for a few minutes, i realized that there was no way i could go upstairs to ask the metalheads to kill a spider for me, and besides, by the time i got them down there the creepmeister would be long gone anyway. i grabbed the biggest shoe i could find, held my breath, squished, squealed, dropped the shoe behind the bed, and ran outside for a congratulatory cigarette.
oh yes. i am all that is girly girl.
am super tired. all i want to do is sleep. am super stressed. all i want to do is cease existence. the only reason i'm able to be courteous to customer's this morning is because i woke up late and had to drive all speedracer style to work. i made the 15 minutes trip in 8 minutes. the sort of thing always makes me happy. to a certain extent.
note to world: no conversation should ever begin with, "there's something we need to talk about." that, my dears, is my least favorite sentence ever.
well, that and, "your boyfriend and i made out last night."