Saturday morning: Wake up, start laundry, eat leftover pasta, cut coupons, go back to bed, have sex, nap, wake up, switch laundry, 4 shots, 2 cheese bisquits, Bruce Hornsby video on TV, internet wasting.
Waiting for him to wake up. Knowing he wants to sleep in.
It’s just that I’m awful at being alone.
/\ And I suppose that was the highlight of the day. My mood kept deteriorating, my mind kept running and it climaxed in a fit in the shower. I’d much rather not be writing any of this but I’ll never be able to keep track of the timing if I don’t note it somewhere.
So I will spare myself the details.
Now it is Monday morning and I’m already anxious and upset. Last night was filled with nightmares and I woke up never wanting to let him go. But I made it to work and although my internet-clicks haven’t been terribly work related, sometimes just showing up is a feat. I’ve got 4 meetings to get through today and two crews working on stage. I don’t want to see another human being and I’d rather sit on a couch in a daze all day.
➢ And by 9a I want to be in tears. Responsible for cleaning up my job and not being given the respect of talking to me about it.
This can’t go well
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