The Butterfly EffectOctober 21, 2008 at 4:11 PM | Posted in Journal | Leave a comment
I sit here typing this while I run a scanner. I hope I can apologize my way out of this one.
On my way to work this morning, I get a phone call from Serena.
Abby had pretty good humor about it, or at least seemed to. We’ll see.
Serena is unrelenting as usual.
Where is the–?
I had a dream last night with my friend Bunny in it. First time I remember having a dream with her in it. It was about the office, in an Escher/Dali kind of way. That makes perfect sense from the inside looking out.
I woke up and my foot didn’t hurt as much as it did.
I made my favorite dinner–I guess it’s my signature dish. Had I known, I would have thought more carefully about what I would like to have known as my "signature dish."
I brought my daughter home this afternoon.
I drank a beer, took a shot, and took some ibuprofin. My foot hurts from my knee all the way down. I slept well.
Free pizza! Yay! At least something went right.
I get up and get a cup of coffee, and make some toast. I head back to my desk and spill some coffee.
Some of the rides were closed. We did 1, 2, 3–how many roller coasters? Four of the six. The Boss just hurts–it shakes me like an infant. And I can’t fit on The Batman.
I went to Auto Zone to get stuff to change the oil in my car. Fourteen dollars for an oil Filter! I sometimes regret the purchase of Der Kaiser. They didn’t have the right oil, so I put it off for another day.
I sent out an email explaining to a few of the girls why I did what I did. It didn’t go over well.
It was a beautiful sky today.
Tired, beat, crabby, and sore, we trudge to the parking lot as we share a funnel cake.
This morning I got donuts.
I sent Erica an email apologizing.
I called Detroit and she bitched at me for the mess in the house. I should have faked losing the signal. Hindsight–
I bought a hoodie this morning. We dropped Alex off at a different store, and I made a quick run to Walmart before we hit the road on the way to Six Flags.
The Storm is in her chair, dozing. She says to Miranda "I shouldn’t let you go because you didn’t–" do some chore or other that she was supposed to do. I agreed to bring her back early Sunday to do it. But it was some kind of control ploy she was trying to use. Some things never change.
Erica emailed me back, letting me off the hook.
My foot hurts. I think I need new shoes.
"Shit! Shit, shit! I forgot. Fuck, I forgot! Shit!"