I can get over the idea that while I'm eating lime jello that I'm actually ingesting cleaner. You know, "Mr. Clean" or something. I'm trying to get over that.

I am expecting to spend the rest of the evening vacuuming the stucco off the ceiling of the bathroom. I get out of the shower every morning and just stand there watching the little chunks fall all around me.

My grandmother is the best storyteller.

My mother called up Bronwyn because suddenly I'm horrified at how starved for friends these days. The one remaining person in the city who I see on a semi regular basis, and is still talking to me is working tomorrow. So Bronwyn (who is 12, but I don't care cause she's fun)and I are off for adventures on 17th Ave.

The other night there was this amazing single explosion of thunder and lightning all at once and it was insanely bright and loud and I literally thought someone had detonated the a-bomb over our house and I was waiting for the weight. I actually jumped into the nearby door frame, which seems rather silly now. I've either watched too many Baghdad documentaries, or I'm just really prepared for the worst.