So I get to join the exclusive club of people who have been having weird dreams about Dust.

We were making the long trip to his house to stay there, except it was simulatneously in the middle of dark nowhere, late at night, and in the a condo-like suburb in the middle of the day. So. We get there, and it turned out is wasn't Dust at all, but some demon in his shape. I called Devon to tell her but she wasn't home. And then, um. David Duchovny became somehow involved. I woke up feeling completely ill-rested.

Now, it's ten-thirty. I'm about to finish a story I got bored with last night, because I lay in bed thinking about it. Also, I'm gonna take a walk, which means I'm gonna have to tangle with those dogs again. Which sucks. I'm beginning to hate dogs. Which is a shame, because I'm a dog person, and I like dogs. so I shouldn't hate them. And my ma found a cattle prod. She's like, take it with you. And I'm like, I'm not going to fucking electrocute a dog. but I might.

I also want to mention, I talked to Annwyn. I approached her, I was very humble, the whole thing was very uncomfortable, and all in all I'm feeling very absolved.

There's a commercial that's been coming on. It's a woman's voice saying:

"I am Blue. I am ancient. I am free."

Except, it's probably "blue" as opposed to "Blue", and it's a travel advertisement for Mexico. But my back is always facing the television screen, and I like it.

So, yeah. Today's gameplan is to finish the recovering alcoholic Joey story, go for a run, come back and shower, work on cleaning and sorting my room, do the dishes, clean the living room, answer the feedback I got on Winter Stays. And send out some letters. I need to send out some social e-mails. And maybe--

ai caramba. I am totally a housewife.

Oh, well.

Maybe I can be like Emily Dickinson.

But I don't want to be like Emily Dickinson.

Alestar
***
you think love ends when you don't see me?