v-day. february 14, 2008.

Today I was exhausted. I sat in front of the damn lamp again, and shortly thereafter, passed out on the couch reading alias grace by margaret atwood [which is turning out to be quite the interesting novel.] I spent most of my day nearly passed out, lethargic and at times confused about what was going on. I missed the man who brought the flowers from justin, and woke up to find a note saying they had dropped them off next door. Now we just moved into a rather nice gothic house downtown but on the bridge of a pretty sketchy neighbourhood and so I really didn't want to go next door. Not to mention that the sheer fact of talking a person makes me sometimes want to vomit. But I wanted my damn flowers, I was excited to be getting them, so greed won out and I walked next door, knocked and waited, knocked and waited. No answer. So I emailed by fiance in a rather upset manner, blaming myself for what had happened and embarassed I had no flowers to show for all his money and effort. I couldn't even get up to get the damn flowers. I thought I dreamt someone coming to the door, but I guess not. Anyways, we got them back eventually, went to a small diner for a valentines day meal & then home for wine, fornication and drug induced dreams.
valentines truly is something that is a. celebrated for the wrong reason b. a hallmark holiday. So don't feel bad. but you probably will anyways. I would. i hate advice like that. now I'm rambling. surely the wine. goodnight.