officially a sad, single girl.

It struck me, just now, as I stared out past swollen eye sockets and through translucent streaks on my lenses, that it was probably okay to eat the macaroni and cheese that had just fallen off of my fork and onto my space bar and desk, because hell, there's nobody else here, and the desk and keyboard are reasonably clean, and that's perfectly good macaroni and cheese.

And it struck me, just now, as I spelled out the macaroni and cheese incident for all the world to see, that even that very small private moment was not something I could stand to keep to myself and so here I stand before you, sweating, tired, confused, and frankly having already eaten too much macaroni and cheese to justify eating some more off of the table, an exhibitionist admitted and committed.

And it struck me, just now, as I admitted being a depraved exhibitionist to both friends and strangers, that sitting next to the dark and uncovered window in my pajamas, eating macaroni and cheese off of the table, getting ready to return to reading an entirely ridiculous, not to mention mindless, mystery novel loaned me by my father, that this probably isn't the optimum way to be spending an otherwise glorious and spellbinding evening.

But damn it, I'm having one of those unpleasant days. The kind of day that makes you want to stay up really late doing something at once mind-numbing and also mentally-encompassing so you don't have to go to bed to think about what made you not want to lay alone in the dark thinking. echhhh... I know, boo hoo.