I don't know why, but I've been getting all moody lately.

I mean, the love life's fine, but the idea of continually coming home to a dark, quiet house with the constant plaintive mewing from Ditto isn't exactly my idea of fantastic.

I've never liked a needy man/cat. ;)

But just the concept of being alone is this huge, old house is chilly in the very concept.

I don't want people to leave when they come over.

I always want to ask them to stay, because I don't want to be alone.

Mike's been a little distant lately, but I was expecting that when he moved in with Vurn.

Sort of.

I'm not really sure what I expected.

Plus, I've been reading the fifth Harry Potter book lately, and man it's depressing.

Mike sometimes accuses me of being emotional, which is true (despite my writing style). I write like I wish I were, unaffectable. In real life I'm volitile and moody way more than I'd like to me.

I cry. A lot.

Then again, I laugh a lot as well.

But I've found that if something makes me cry in a day, I am very easily brought to tears for the rest of the day. Like, a word can bring me to the edge.

And I don't like it.

Thus, my affectability and reading the depressing Harry Potter book has put me in a moody, grouchy mood.

I'm just on one of those days where I'd like to curl up in the fetal position against Mike's chest and cry like a freakin' baby.

Not that I'll be able to, because although I dropped several blantant hints, he maintained that going up to my place would be too much work (never mind the fact that I live about four blocks away from his work, and he lives halfway across town, nooooo...).

I'm not bitter. Really.

My fucking internet is fucking up on me and being all fucking slow.

AAAAAGH!

I'm having a fucking bad day, is all.

I burnt myself bad at work on the stupid fucking spagetti soup. Stupid people wanting stupid soup.

It's still sensitive, though it didn't blister because I put it in ice water almost imediately (and darling Janet doled out most of the soup from then on).

Not to mention I was late for the SCA meeting (which was at my house), and promptly spilled half a cup of fucking hot tea in my lap.

Needless to say, I swore sourly (through gritted teeth, there were little ears in the room).

So now I'm all fucking moody and bored and edgy and all alone in this fucking house and stupid fucking boyfriend would rather go get slurpies with his best friend (again) than come and cheer me up a little.

He said he'd phone me when he got home.

How likely do you think that'll be?

Not very.

But if/when he does phone, I'll probably just be grouchy and he'll ask what's wrong and I'll say nothing and he'll insist and I'll insist and then he'll get irritated and do the silent treatment and I'll get snappy and it won't be pretty.

On the other hand, he could cheer me up.

I need it.

Fuck you, world.

.

Rosie.

Before&After