My first ever Writing.com journal. |
i can't, i just, it's too, too, much. i cannot believe this. she has this washcloth (dirty), and this plastic bag full of toiletries. and nowhere to put them, apparently. and so they hang from a hook by the door, on my side of the room, and i can smell them. pronouncedly. i tried to outwit the smell--attacked the room with glade air freshener and a scented-oil plug-in in complementary scents. did not work. crept into my nose and gave me sneezing fits, rather. so then i had to ask her to open the window, for reasons into which i obviously couldn't delve very deeply, and she did, and now my throat is a bit scratchy...on top of which the chapstik i bought (and used!!!) has octinoxate, a pretty serious amount, so maybe i'll have that allergic reaction-- and i was a maniac last night. and quite sorry for it directly after. i absolutely exploded, something i rarely do. i managed not to curse, which at the time seemed important, like if i did it would ruin everything or something. in retrospect the abrupt and angry end to the conversation was probably my fault, i'm probably a bad person, i probably don't deserve as much patience as what he gives me. but, i mean, jesus. shit and shinola. it was a reaction, is all. poorly timed and all that, yes, but genuine. which, genuine is all he asks for. he thinks i'm going to apologize, and i'm not. but fridays are going to be a breeze, this semester. one eleven o'clock class, no work and an obscene amount of free time. the naps will be out of control. which, fortunately, means i probably won't spend all my money on spinny rings that break after three spins. thank god for aaron. an atlanta woman allegedly killed her newborn and left him in a trashcan today. the news coverage is making my womb hurt. literally. which makes two important centers of my being, heavied with intense pain. which means i should ignore the noxious washcloth fumes and go to sleep. |