index | archives | notes Monday, Jul. 24, 2006 9:24 a.m. << [ Harriet's Night Out ] >> Three of my blinds are missing, so the morning's in here more or less without my permission. I don't really mind, this is just what I do. He called yesterday in the middle of a tradition to tell me a dream he had. The way he used to. He called again at two thirty this morning, but I was passed out by then because I'd given up. I'm listening to a song that makes me think of a little old lady. There are no lyrics. I described the old lady, in detail, to a friend of mine in an email I wrote him last night. I ended it with, "I hate calling myself weird, but this can't be normal." He said, "You're pretty weird Amanda, I'm sorry if you don't like that, but I totally think it's a good thing. I love nothing more than some weird ass shit." Maybe you had to be there. The more friends she makes, the more friends there are for her to make. << | x | >> whatiscopyright.org