If comas were contagious, I’d be speeding toward a hospital

That’s “coma,” not “comma,” although I wish commas were also contagious because some people don’t write with enough of them. But anyway. 🙂

Today kicked off with the receipt of a $600 phone bill, to top off last month’s $400 one. I don’t make this much money, people. Lately I’ve been putting in the type of hours that would afford such an atrocity, but man, this ain’t the way to start off a day. My bill has been manageable for five years; why the sudden surge? Apparently they say I called and asked them to cancel my 7 p.m. nights. I’m like, huh? Why would anyone do that? So, I did the honorable thing and upgraded my plan, because $120 a month sure beats $600.




I’ve gotten myself mostly caught up at work, which is joyous. But I’ve also hit a wall in doing so — it’s taking me longer to crank out the creative when the space bar key is embedded in my forehead. I keep hoping that if I whack my head hard enough, I’ll induce the coma that I so desperately seek.

It’s not all work and no play, although the “play” has turned into “too much fucking effort” so the pleasant distractions aren’t so pleasant anymore.

I told my friend D. that my single New Year’s resolution is to become a lesbian. Because, really, I can’t come up with one single reason why not. Sorry boys, I’m going off the market. Clearance sale in progress, so get me now before it’s too late! 😉

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