I've been considering leaving a VM to my shrink.

"Hi M. I hope you're well. I know I stood you up and owe you for the last appointment. I'm really sorry. I completely got the date wrong. So, M, I think I better start seeing you again. My basement flooded and I'm an organizational mess with the clean up: the logistics of insurance and my inability to throw things out, and dealing with my family. So, Let me know when you're available for an appointment. I've cancelled my piano lessons indefinitely until I get my basement mess dealt with. And to be honest, I just don't need the added frustration and anyway my teacher thinks I'm an old idiot. She hates me. Everyone hates me. I don't know why I try. Sooooo, call me back when you can. Thanks."

Or maybe: "Hi M. I hope you're well. I want/need to start seeing you again so, so call me back for an appointment. Thanks."

Or maybe: "M! CALL ME BACK! I LOST A FLIP-FLOP!"

What'll happen is he'll call me back, unavailable for a few weeks and my mental state will be better, so I have to recount almost as a 3rd person.

And what'll happen is he'll say "hey! that's a lot of shitty things you're dealing with. Literally. There's no perfect path and there are no mistakes. You're handling it and need to remind yourself of that." And I'll just go "ok. acknowledged. I don't feel better."

My car hit 300,300km

Now, you may think that's hardly noteworthy, but 300300 is divisible by 2,3,5,7,11 AND 13 -- the first 6 prime numbers. I'll give you another update when it reaches 510510. That's seven primes, baby!

Yes, these things occur to me whilst driving.

I made gumbo for the first time. Chicken + andouille + shrimp.

It's OK, but it's kind of just a greasy soup. Certainly not photogenic. Maybe Louisiana cooking isn't for me as green peppers and celery are not my bag. I'll have to cook some rice to go with it tonight. I got lazy yesterday.

And I burned my finger through the towel I was holding the pan handle with to pour the roux. Yowtch!

My piano teacher doesn't know Year of the Cat. Not that she doesn't know how to play it, but that she is completely devoid of knowledge of the song. I don't mention this like it's a failing. Apparently she teaches songwriting. Don't 70's singer/songwriters come up?

I said it must be "generational", which is probably the pettiest jab I've ever made. Oddly, I have no clue what she knows/likes and it's starting to bug me. She's an enigma, and it leaves me a little disoriented. I tend to relate to people based on their thing. Now that sounds like I'm a suck-up, but not quite. I mean, hey, I can go on and on about something, but I like hearing what people like. I think people are the greatest fun. I know things. And I know people who know things. So if I don't know something I need, I know where to get it (that's your job)

A: "I love that Laura Moon never wears a bra anymore because ain't no dead woman ever wearing a mother fuckin' bra"

B: "Due to a series of unfortunate events she has found herself dead and bra-less."

Me: "The word, 'Pendulous', comes from the Latin word for hanging freely, possibly swinging, like a pendulum of a clock, counting the minutes to before the final tolling, but alas, Laura, much like a former love, has already heard her bell's toll. However, unlike my dear Beatrice, Laura wanders the Earth, her breasts hanging freely, counting her extra minutes before they inevitably fall off."

Nothing is about me, but this post is.

I just got wind that a former girlfriend, my first girlfriend, is married and her husband is dying in a hospital in Niagara Falls. I didn't know she was married. I haven't seen her in 20 years. Last time I saw her was in a plant nursery and she ninja-ed me faster than I ducked out on her. I know nothing about her because she is the sort to eschew Facebook and/or block exes. Why am I drawn to mega-intelligent, beautiful women who want nothing to do with me afterward? Dr C is a ghost online, too, and we're married!

My co-worker's ex, the father of her children, was found dead on his bathroom floor yesterday. He lived in another town. She had to tell her kids a second time that their father has left them. She is far less nostalgic.

Also... my livejournal account expired. Fuck you, Livejournal! (crossposted to Livejournal)

I bought shoes off Amazon. They were on sale and I didn't have to interact with anyone. Heck, because my boss brought the package to my office, I didn't even have to stand up!

This is hardly a big deal, but it just leads me to ponder the demise of retail. However, I have creative rationalization: mail order has always existed. And oh how much I hate the mall. Buying online, nobody's treating me like I don't belong there, and nobody's pushing protective balms.

I have a tendency to get worked up about something and belabouring it until I share it with someone long enough that they're upset and then I feel better assuaging them. I don't mean to do it, I swear.

Case in point: The dog doesn't eat a lot, and she's skinny. I worry about it until I get my wife worried. This isn't without precedence: 2 years ago, C's cat got really skinny (I noticed it easier because I saw her less) and eventually went into liver failure. She probably had a liver problem for a long time but would get nauseated after eating a little. So she starved. Losing Cheeky was devastating. Now the dog. Ella's always been a fussy dog. Just distract her and she'll stop eating. She's probably picking up on my anxiety. Dogs aren't supposed to be like this, dammit.

Anyway, all weekend I'm watching her, and watching the plate, and microwaving the food to bring out the smell. She ate after I left, of course. Now, C's worried Ella's going to die.

Back in HS days, my sister borrowed my Walkman and forgot it in her locker. I was miffed and kept bringing it up. Just nattering away. "I wish you didn't forget my Walkman. Why'd you forget it?" Then suddenly my normally detached father went ballistic, screaming and shouting at my sister, chasing her through the house and broke her door by bashing at it. He started hyperventilating and hit the ground. My normally excitable mom screamed dad was having a heart attack and to call an ambulance. The phone rang at the same time, so I answer telling whomever to call back as I need to talk to an ambulance. My dad then grabbed the phone and tried to hang up on the poor fellow who was trying to call us and has people panicking and trying to hang up on him (phones worked different, then. The originator controlled the call). Anyway, my dad was fine. And long story short, my sister blamed me for the whole ordeal and I was reminded of this by seeing the broken door which didn't get fixed for years.

So, I try to be conscious of when I'm nattering. I just don't share. Then it comes out all over the place. And when I do share, I feel guilty for being manipulative. So I do nothing right and I don't trust my feelings and well, that doesn't work either. So not having feelings is ideal. Yep.

Woah! Episode 3 of American Gods was really well done. Wow.