Why is it that the surest indicator of whether or not I'll be able to sleep, and if so, how well, is how desperately I need to get up in the morning?
I had an amazing day today. Class was boring, like the dark room before I stepped out into the light that was to be an entire day with Echo. We went to the bank to cash her paycheck, then did lunch at IHOP to celebrate (2 days late but oh, well) that we have been together for 7 months, after which I took her to work. When I picked her up after work, with pizza and grape soda in tow, she was thrilled, and that made me very happy, too. We went to Wal-Mart to get me a new pair of jeans, since my medium-old ones are AWOL (I've been told that my OLD ones are KIA) and met several of her friends from HS, narrowly avoided detection by an individual who had me in something resembling Stockholm syndrome throughout HS (my prison was a purely social one, as all my friends were also hers), and bumped into A (I can't say enough how my earlier post complaining about her was out of line. She really is one of my very best friends), A's brother's best friend, and one of Echo's coworkers (that last one REPEATEDLY) and I found out that someone I would never have pegged as a slut has pretty much gone nympho since her first taste (I am SO not going into whom this may be) and I rediscovered that writing whilst tired leads to crazy-long run-on sentences and I think I'll make the sentence just a little longer, just because I can.
