saint-louise's Diaryland Diary

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Remember me?

I would like a pancake. I mean, like, a Very Satisfying Pancake. With walnuts and bananas. And just a touch of syrup. And coffee. And juice. Orange juice. And a nice warm breakfast nook to eat it in. And a purring cat at my feet. And a newspaper to read. With a crossword puzzle.

I want Sunday Morning. The way it should be.

On Monday.

I cannot possibly be the first person to want that.

So. Who’s setting up the delivery of Monday-Morning Sundays? Huh?

Sigh…

I’ve had a whole slew of moments that would normally cause me irritation over the past few days, but the good news is that I’ve been too busy to react properly. Or perhaps that’s the bad news, considering that reacting properly is what makes for interesting diary entries. At any rate, I’m killing time until I’m due to take a math test, so you…you lucky, lucky (or “licky,” which I just typed) readers get the List of Things That Would Normally Piss Me Off:

* I called my father from a toy store this weekend, hoping to receive a quick answer to “What would my half sister like for Christmas?” Instead, I got to have a 30 minute conversation with Dad and my stepmother, covering every topic from my health, to my daughter, to my siblings, to the weather, to when I’m going to visit next, to work, to school, to my relationship, and finally settling on why I was calling from a toy store.

At this point, Dad informed me, “You know…I hate when people do that. Then everyone around them gets to hear ‘Blahblahblah, and then so-and-so did this and can you believe it?’ It’s very irritating.”

I stared at the abnormally huge heads of Strawberry Shortcake dolls, rendered nearly blind by various shades of pink, and replied wearily, “You know, Dad, right about now I hate me, too.”

This is what comes of not calling as often as I should.

* My cat found a string cheese wrapper in my bathroom garbage one time, millions of years ago, after the earth cooled from a molten mass and right before dinosaurs roamed the land. To this day, she insists on knocking over the garbage in the wee hours of the morning, rummaging through the refuse in search of one quick whiff of cheese, then settles on chewing up and gagging on discarded cotton swabs. This is all after she climbs into the litter box (also located in the bathroom) and buries the results of her morning relief for about ten minutes straight.

It should be noted that my bathroom is right next to my bed, so all this activity takes place about six feet from my head.

* Box elder bugs. Well, okay. No. They still do piss me off to no end. See? The no-endedness of it stretches into eternity, along with Rush songs and how many times one of the bims in my literary studies class says, “You know?”. I decided the other day that I really should stomp on them more often (box elder bugs, not bims in my classes, although that would be stimulating, too), but the maniacal, satisfied laughter that accompanies this task usually interrupts the concentration of my co-workers.

That’s all I can think of for now. Wasn’t that all worth it?

And, so you know, I plan to cut out two meals per day, as well as all but one bathroom trip, in the attempt to update more frequently. I’ve got a lot of entries built up in my head, and I’m starting to feel a little constipated from not letting them out.

Promises, promises…

4:32 p.m. - 2003-11-17

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