Ready to Move On

Jim didn't get up this morning to give me a ride to the bus stop, so I had to walk. He doesn't pay rent. He borrows money from me. He only works sporadically out of David's garage. He struts around like he owns the place. It's time to put him in his place. I go to work while he stays at home doing very little. It's time to take control; time to have fun being a bitch; time to take ownership of my house back.

I don't want to live all alone. It's nice to have someone there in case you are in trouble. However, I am going to be more bossy to both of them, and stop treating Jim like he's special.

Blood in the Dumpster

And it was my own. I slipped while climbing in; hit real hard on my pubic bone. It hurt so so bad. After a while the pain subsided and the area felt all warm and glow-y on the inside. Then that subsided as well and it began to feel warm and wet. 'Did the blow make me pee my pants?' I wondered. 'It sure feels like there's something dripping down my leg.'

So I took a quick peek inside -- so much blood! I got a lot of good stuff though, so I guess I paid for it all in a way.

It still hurts about the birds

It's been seven months since I starved the finches to death. It still hurts. I still miss them. I think of the days leading up to their deaths, and that very last night, and finding them the next day. Jim was awful.