bad things, dead things, sad things

[cimorene]

the rain's died down. i can't hear it anymore, just the rush when cars drive past and disturb the puddles. my arm's still sore from carrying this child up and down a hill four times yesterday to the pool, the kitchen smells of burnt garlic and there's no good breakfast food. i don't know if any of these has anything to do with the moodiness. i'm depressed and highly irritable, in that, look, a window! how annoying! a door! how annoying! manner. i need to take the dog to the vet tomorrow. i have fifty five dollars in cash, an unconscionable amount to carry around. maybe i'll buy some pretty little sandals, too. or a dress. i've given some thought to going to church every month or so on the chance of watching the gay boys. i slept through it today, but frank is out of town anyway. now, the cuteness of the gay boys: there's a cheery thought! but my arm still hurts.