It hasn’t quite been a good day for me. I’m bitchy for some reason - Eddie described it as being “off” - and I don’t really know why. I had Pickle out for a while this morning and afternoon, and both times she was out for no more than an hour before put her back because I couldn’t handle having to keep pulling her out from behind the TV stand every 3 minutes. She goes back there and chews the cables or digs at the floor. The anti-chew spray does nothing to stop her. Squirting her with the water bottle just makes her wet, which makes me nervous because she’s usually standing on top of a power strip at the time, and I’d like to keep from frying her (somehow I don’t think pulling her out from behind and then squirting her would help her see that she’s being bad, because then she’s not at the scene of the crime). Putting her in the cage doesn’t help matters, because she goes in there and pulls the bars, and the cage is shitty enough condition as it is without her pulling it as hard as she can. Not to mention that she pulls it with such force that I’m sure she’s going to break a tooth on it someday.

We had her out for a while tonight after Eddie got home, and after a bit I had Eddie take charge of Pickle because I was getting so pissed off at her that I was afraid I’d hurt her. I was that angry. The only time that she doesn’t go behind the TV is if I’m sitting right there on the floor in front of the TV, in which case she runs around me like a maniac because the game of “let’s go behind the big heavy electric appliance to torment Crystal” is just way too much fun for her. I know that she doesn’t mean to piss me off, but I just don’t know how to get her to stop, and while I know that I would never deliberately hurt her, I’m afraid that I’ll hurt her when I pull her out of there.

Combine this anxiety over the ferret with the fact that Comrade was home, and I was freaking about that. If I’m home when he’s home, it gets me all worked up and in an effort to hopefully not make my presence known to him, I take great pains to be as quiet as possible. This includes such retarded behaviors like tip-toe-ing through the house, trying not to roll the chair around at the computer, not going to check the mail, and generally being as paranoid as a drug mule with a bellyful of coke-filled rubbers. So now I’ve got a 2lb ferret running around the living room and jumping everywhere because I won’t let her play with the power cables and electrocute herself, I can’t get her to stop, I’m trying to both discipline her with a firm “No!” and yet be quiet and at the same time not hurt Pickle while I scruff her, and wanting to just be anywhere but there at that point.

I also didn’t do anything that I intended on doing. I wanted to finish the afghan, and for the most part it is done, but not as much as I’d like it to be. I wanted to dye my hair before Eddie got home, but that didn’t happen for reasons I can’t even remember. I planned on doing some dishes, but then Comrade came home and my paranoid brain deemed the dishwasher too noisey. My shoulder is killing me because I slept on it the wrong way last night, and I had a headache for the better part of the day. The sauce on the pizza we ordered was nasty and full of chunks and the cheese wasn’t really melty.

And that’s my Friday in a nutshell.

The wonderful agony of oral sex: “She was out of my car and into her house before I knew it. I quickly drove off, not wanting to face her rifle-wielding father, with seminal fluid still meekly drizzling out of my penis, my face covered in her spit and my sperm, laughing at the absurdity of my life.

I had no idea that this would only be the first in a long line of blowjob follies.”

So this morning I wasn’t in too bad of a mood considering I’d had a not-very-nice night (which we won’t get into), and so we got up and went to the pet store to see the baby ferrets again. Then Eddie discovered that he didn’t have his wallet on him, so we drove back home and picked that up, and then headed off. At some point we argued about why I won’t just pick up and take a bus to New York with no planning at all, and there was much bitching on my part about how I don’t have any ideas on what to do on the weekends and how I don’t like to plan weekend outings anyway. Eddie decided we were going to go to the zoo to see the dinosaur exhibit, but the lines were hella long and we decided to hit the boat tour instead. That was nice, and we got to see a lot of stuff we hadn’t seen before. Unfortunately my camera’s batteries died right as we were getting up close to some huge lily pads.

At that point we were getting hungry, so we drove to get something to eat. We headed to Spikes for some hot dogs, and then drove around a bit more. Once again I was asked for ideas on where to go, and once again I had no idea. Of course, not having any ideas makes me feel super bad for dragging Eddie down to this awful boring little pit of a state, and Eddie’s idea of going to mini-golf was shot down because the last place I really wanted to be at in this mood is a mini-golf place packed full of screaming children and white trash.

Maybe a nap will help.

They’re in the vase, dead.
Their scent lingers like your faded kiss,
And the sight of them kills me.

But I can’t throw them out.
They mean too much to me now.
There’s too much to remember about us,
And they’re the last tangible thing from you
Besides the ring from Christmas.

There they sit, dead, withered on the top shelf
Because they won’t fit on the lower ones.
The ring is still on my finger, the purple stone
Still shines. The ring itself is a size too big and is
Turned around, facing my palm half the time
And the world the rest.

Still, I can’t get rid of either.
I’ll lay in bed and look at the roses and think of the night
That you gave them to me;
Of the happier times we had under the stars and streetlights,
And I like the sparkle of the ring.

Memories don’t help heal the soul,
Don’t heal the heart, can’t close off the past.
They fade with time, fortunately,
And all that I’ll have to remind me is the scent of the roses.

What do I do with the roses now?