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Sunday, Apr. 15, 2018 - 9:03 a.m.

Waiting, waiting. I feel like I spend all my time waiting for the next thing to happen.

Got to 177 yesterday and went and bought myself some size 12s that fit. Nice. Then today I’m at 177.8, and why? Yesterday I ate 3/4c mujaddara (no rice, just lentils and onions with a spoonful of hummus), a cup of mango, 3/4 cup of chili with a little cheese on it. A small cookie for a snack in the afternoon.

Who knows. Frustrating. Now I wait until I can weigh myself tomorrow. Waiting. More waiting.

I feel like I have a lot to clear up with the psychologists. I don’t think I communicated well. Yesterday I felt better about it but now it is bothering me again. I don’t know how we will get him back there again next week.

My friend wants me to do a shirt for her with the blackletter ‘nope’ on it. So there’s my lino project. I feel that I should have another IG account for my calligraphy and darker stuff. I’m not sure the people who admire my cyanotype jewelry will equally appreciate the suggestions emerging from some of my other IG likes.

Anton Chekhov died of tuberculosis when he was 44.

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