Yes he's back home, did I tell you that? But he still has 2 tubes..."bathroom" tubes that he has to empty. It's fucking disgusting. Why am I focusing on my disgust when I should reveling in the gratitude I feel that he's home and not in the horrible hospital? Probably because I am easily grossed out. I just would prefer not to know. But his little tube filled with something yellow (pee?) dangles from his waist and it's all I can do not to stare.
Lose your appetite yet? I did. But I just ate 2 slices of wheat toast. 1 with peanut butter, 1 with almond butter. Not a bad breakfast, but I slept late again (every day this week) and now I'm going to have to scramble to be ready for work. Also I need to stop at the gas station.
Since I woke up in such a rotten, emotional mood, I decided to get high to alleviate my drama. I definitely do not usually do this before work but it'll be fine. My cat scratched the shit out of my hand so I've got some more battle wounds. Seems like I'm always hurting myself. I've had cuts and bruises on my hands consistently for the past month or so. Guess I'm just not paying attention to what I'm doing. I've never been one to just live in the moment, my head is often out in space...dwelling and planning.
I'm glad it's Friday. I really need to get a "move on". Literally and figuratively. I need to move out! I'm ready to be out of here! If only for some fucking privacy, peace, and quiet.
Time to get ready for work. At least D. will be there, sparking some lustful thoughts and a becoming blush.