Aaron and I got into a large fight yesterday, right as I was trying to fall asleep (never a good time to start a conversation, let alone pick a fight which is what I did) about how he never asks me how my day is going. His response is, I'm so stressed about work, why don't you just tell me? My response is, because when I just tell you you're thinking about other things and you don't listen and three weeks later you ask me why I've had a sex change operation and I say, "I told you three weeks ago!"
Wow, that was random.
Anyway, so I'm whisper-yelling at him that everyone's stressed, everyone's got a lot to do, and yet, I make time to find out what's going on with his restaurant, his video games, etc. (Actually, there is no etc.) And he's whisper-yelling at me he does ask, so I ask him which final I took tonight and he doesn't know, or if he knows I turned in a 7-page paper that I wrote in two days that was majorly freaking me out, or if he knows that I have a film final on Saturday at 10am and an English final next Wednesday, and if he knows that I'm going through a period of severe depression, which I've told him several times including mere hours before, not to mention it's more than slightly obvious, and that he's doing a shit job of helping me whereas when he's in a funk I spend hours cuddling and coddling and listening to and advising him.
This is a Major Problem, but I guess if we overcame a heroin addiction, alcoholism, a pain killer addiction, and a cutting problem, we can work with negligence.
It smells like lemon Pledge and my favorite jeans, the ones that just burst through last week in the crotch, are now loose on me. Apparently, you do lose weight while subsisting on 360 calories a day.