Yesterday was busy. Dropping off a game (FF Crystal Chronicles: weird) at the video store, I found a child's stuffed toy in the gutter. A baby Donald Duck, actually, soaked through with rain water. I brought it home and washed it off, dried it on the radiator. Happy's been eyeing it, but as far as I can tell its stomach is filled with minute plastic beads, so she'll have to stick to her trout.
Today I go to my dreaded writing class, when they'll review the last thing I wrote. I don't want to be there for it. I'm already too aware of the flaws in everything I write. I can hardly write anything, I'm so self-conscious. What bothers me most about going over my stuff isn't the comments I get, those are fine, but the moment before the comments. The judging. I guess I imagine everything else is as interested as I am, which really isn't the case. If it was, I'd really be in trouble.
I dreamed that I met a blonde woman who owned Juniper part-time, and called her "Lucky". In the dream, I couldn't wait to tell Kimi and Sachiko that I'd stumbled across Juniper's other life.
The coffee I sipped from my mother's cup is burning my stomach. After class, today, I'm taking Happy to the vet, because either her neck is swollen or she's been gaining weight. In her neck. And she needs her nails cut.
"BUSH WON'T CALL PM" was the headline in the National Post this morning. What a baby.
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6 comments:
Maybe Bush is more of a morning person.
Marc stole my witty comment! BASTARD!
Just as you are trying to steal Claire's original fashion statements? Oooh. Burn.
How could you? I'm a woman!
More like my dad's original fashion statements, since he found me the shoes for Christmas.
I have no fashion statements. All I have is loyalty, which is fashion's antithesis. I'm adorable.
As are you both. We are all adorable babies together. Except Bush. Who is homely.
Please update on Happy. Tell them you are friends with George the Rabbit. He's popular.
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