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Language Log

Monday, Sept. 24, 2012 - 7:27 a.m.

Terrible night, which started its terribleness around 6:30 pm when J got clonked on the head by a homicidal blender pitcher when trying to arrange something in our storage area. Blood, glass, a couple of stitches.

Lousy dinner. I fucked up and accidentally acted sincere. Hurt someone's feelings. I grumbled and brooded about it for the rest of the night. My mother is not involved, but she was there and so had to try to give me her opinion about it. That improved my mood vastly, of course.

Q stayed the night at the grandparents'. I guess I'll see her again today. Who the fuck knows. The truth is I miss her terribly.

I woke at 3 am and laid there awake for the duration, awash in self-loathing, falling asleep just long enough to have a bad nightmare about something happening to Q. Then I woke up, it was 6am, and so. Morning. Hello, morning, I hate you.

Still feeling surly and malicious.

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