I was annoyed that the chair was wobbly, so I left the breakfast joint and walked home. I was so infuriated by the time I got home, for no reason at all, that I threw my shoes at the wall, tore down all the curtains, and decided to go to bed so that I could start the day over. As soon as I pulled the covers over myself, I burst into tears and couldn't stop. I cried and I sobbed and I begged for myself to stop, that this didn't make any sense, why was I so angry all the time to such extremes, and I cried and I cried and every time I started to stop, I started all over again. Katie called and I wasn't going to pick up until I remembered that she was in the city by herself for the majority of the day and that I'd promised to hang out. I composed myself enough to pick up the phone and within thirty seconds was sobbing again and she said she would be right over (she nows lives 3 blocks away from me). I got myself a glass of cranberry juice and a cigarette and managed to get over the fit, call Aaron to apologize for walking out on him at the restaurant, and started crying again just long enough to get my eyes that pinkeye look.
Once Katie was over, I was well enough to walk over with her to see her apartment. We spent the day crossing things off my to-do list: drop off McSweeney's stuff, get paycheck from the restaurant, deposit paycheck, and pick up Kiehl's samples from work.
Conclusion: it's nice having friends in the city, and? what the fuck is wrong with me?