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Thursday, September 29, 2005

they kinda look like skid marks

Maybe it's just the heat getting to me (after a relatively mild summer for those of us who are 6 or 7 miles away from the beautiful Pacific). But I feel like crap again. And GOOD LORD is it hot (not East Coast hot by any means, of course, but why else do you live in West LA if not for the year-round-gorgeous-wether?).

I almost cried when Paul started eating chips with his dinner because I was afraid he was going to get his gums infected. Am I getting my period? No, I am not. There is just something very wrong with me.

This has just seriously been one of those weeks. There's no other way to say it. It started off with one of my best contractors being let go a full-month before her contract was supposed to end (and after me totally convincing her this could go perm - which is also what her manager told her except he's on vacation this week so what the hell is going on >< !!) and leaving us no warning at all that we needed to find her a new position. Thus, she has been jobless this week and, as she reminded me this afternoon when I called her to tell her we still had no explanation for her, it is the first of the month. In other words, a bad time to be broke.

So that was how my week started. And it just kind of spiraled downhill from there. My blanket is bloody. So is Paul's pillow. And our sheets. Not like murder-scene bloody but still disturbing. Especially after reading all those "So you're getting your wisdom teeth pulled..." websites and learning that, just as I suspected, one is not supposed to be spitting copious amounts of thick, bloody liquid from one's mouth, several hours after getting one's wisdom teeth pulled.

I don't like his dentist. He is supposed to go back tomorrow to get the other two pulled. I am fighting this very hard because there is actually no reason for him to get those two pulled. Even the dentist herself admitted that those last two wisdom teeth are bothering no one. So what is the point of subjecting himself to another miserable day of spitting up blood (which makes me gag) and staining our sheets?

It's almost nine o'clock and Paul is already asleep and my eyes are getting heavy. I feel like I'm 5 again.

wingless was still breathing at 8:48 PM -

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