Lisa-Lisa & 1/2 hamburgers
Yesterday I slept OK; I think it's this daily walk thing I've instituted. After I fried up some Albertson's brand pancakes for the Beautiful Blonde Bumble Bee Girl she went out to the fucking bat-mobile & cleaned the windows so cute. We called Iron Claw House to see about Cheri not-bitching about being "late" after our doctor's appointments today. When we discovered Lisa was working I walked over & had Trish call me when she arrived safely at work there, instead of at home. Mostly, people just sat around & played Aggravation, but I can talk to Lisa better than Cheri. She sent home 1/2 a hamburger for Trish.
When I got home I found a message on the answering machine: Doc Larocque had approved Trish's Klonopin, albeit as a PRN. I mostly wasted the afternoon by watching Barb Wire, a comic book adaptation that proves that Pamela Anderson can't act, but it was an OK diversion.
While Trish took her bath I went for my daily walk. After I got back Trish wanted to play Penguins. I called Hope; I'd written her a note saying I'd had some marginal suicidal fantasies. I told her that I'm feeling much better now, & how was she? Not sleeping, even though they have her on 2 types of sleeping pills. She claims she hadn't replied to the letter 'cause she was so busy dropping out of the Center down there; she doesn't like the Units.
We had carrots & mac & cheese for supper last night. Trish read a little of the Battlestar Galactica sneak-peeks in Skiffy Magazine, then Jeffer Auss came over with some DVDs & got Trish all frenetic over the stupid fucking moths. For the last couple days Trish has been having a high level of anxiety over the moth problem, & didn't need to hear more on where they're coming from; they'll all die in a few more weeks, anyway.
This morning I woke up a little before 6:00. When I checked my email I discovered that Oceans of the Mind had rejected QA, so I sent it to ASIM, along with an apology for blowing up at that nerdy editor who doesn't know anything about either science or literature. They're kind of a last ditch submission, since they pay so poorly.
Trish should be up shortly, so until tomorrow it's just the end of time.
When I got home I found a message on the answering machine: Doc Larocque had approved Trish's Klonopin, albeit as a PRN. I mostly wasted the afternoon by watching Barb Wire, a comic book adaptation that proves that Pamela Anderson can't act, but it was an OK diversion.
While Trish took her bath I went for my daily walk. After I got back Trish wanted to play Penguins. I called Hope; I'd written her a note saying I'd had some marginal suicidal fantasies. I told her that I'm feeling much better now, & how was she? Not sleeping, even though they have her on 2 types of sleeping pills. She claims she hadn't replied to the letter 'cause she was so busy dropping out of the Center down there; she doesn't like the Units.
We had carrots & mac & cheese for supper last night. Trish read a little of the Battlestar Galactica sneak-peeks in Skiffy Magazine, then Jeffer Auss came over with some DVDs & got Trish all frenetic over the stupid fucking moths. For the last couple days Trish has been having a high level of anxiety over the moth problem, & didn't need to hear more on where they're coming from; they'll all die in a few more weeks, anyway.
This morning I woke up a little before 6:00. When I checked my email I discovered that Oceans of the Mind had rejected QA, so I sent it to ASIM, along with an apology for blowing up at that nerdy editor who doesn't know anything about either science or literature. They're kind of a last ditch submission, since they pay so poorly.
Trish should be up shortly, so until tomorrow it's just the end of time.
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