saint-louise's Diaryland Diary
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Don't. Panic.
I was using the restroom at my place of employment just now (thanks for the mental image, Louise). In the middle of relieving myself, someone a few stalls over shifted ever so slightly. And I was suddenly, startlingly consumed with the thought that I was doing something horribly wrong. Had I been talking to myself, muttering profanity under my breath? What if I had belched out loud without realizing it? Holy shit, am I even peeing in the right place?! As though, somehow, I’d gone fugue and might possibly come to, finding myself taking a piss in the lunchroom next to the microwave.
But no. There I was, still in the bathroom, doing what I was doing where I was supposed to do it.
That. Right there. Has been my mental state lately. I’m not sure why I’m suddenly unable to cope with stress, and to handle several events occurring at once. I used to do that, and with a rather “Bugger all. Get the fuck out of my way” state of mind. Not so much anymore, I’m afraid. It’s a tad disconcerting, to say the least.
So, I’m sorry, gentle readers. I’ve been cajoled. I’ve been spoken to softly, and almost wistfully, regarding the days when I updated with relative, if not always reliable, frequency. I’ve even been threatened. Good god, people. I’m on probation over here.
The good news is: I’ve made a promise to myself about this diary thingy. Positive things are afoot. Stay tuned, if you would please. My love for you has not waned an iota.
Love, love me. Do.
4:11 p.m. - 2004-11-17
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