Didn't have sex again last night.

That was mostly my fault.

At about ten thirty, after we'd showered (I may note I hadn't kissed him since I got home), I sat down to watch the last half of CSI New York.

"So...doesn't my smooth face turn you on?" he asked. He'd shaved. I like it when he shaves.

"It's nice," I said. "But I want to watch CSI."

"That's over at 11," he said. "I'll be too tired then."

"Meh," I said.

It's gotten to the point where I've really stopped caring. It's gonna take a bigger effort than shaving to get me interested again.

Stupid stupid.

On a lighter note, he took me to my parents so I could pick up more of my stuff, and my dad's easel. It's a nice easel, sturdier than Kelly's. I said she could use it, because she paints more than I do.

And also the outlet store that's linked to Cole's in the mall is getting TWENTY FIVE new cases of books in today.

They had the Lord of the Rings series bound in hardcover for $10. I resisted, because I'm not a huge enough fan for so big a tome, but if I go back today and they have a copy (which I doubt), I'll buy one to sell on Ebay, because normally they're 50 pounds.

50 pounds! That's, like, $120 Canadian.

Nuts.

Anyway, I'm gonna go print resumes. I need another job.

.

Rosie.

Before&After