Tom has about two weeks of summer left. The floor is not close to being done. I am trying to be patient.

When he goes back to teaching, I feel a little less stressed about my job and the house (even though we are now officially upside down in our mortgage instead of just theoretically) because I’m also less jealous because he’s not home all day while I’m underemployed and bitter.

But if he’s not at home, who will sign for our packages? I can get them at work, but everyone is so nosy about what I get. I am tempted to order sex toys from Good Vibrations or Babeland and have them delivered to the office just for the shock value.

Needless to say, I am on that Flight Attendant’s side in this recent carry-on luggage/dramatic beer + inflatable slide fracas. Sometimes, you just can’t take anymore shit and somebody hits you in the face with something they shouldn’t even be touching, and you need a drink and to ride on a slide.

We had no air conditioning in the office today and it got up to 88 degrees before I left for physical therapy. GROSS.

But that’s not the grossest part, people. The grossest part is that the vent pipe for the compressor was clogged with COCKROACHES AND THEIR NESTS and that’s why the AC wasn’t working.

Then I came home and Tom told me that last night he felt something brushing against his back while he was sleeping and he thought it was Arrow’s whiskers. I think you know where this is going. IT WAS A COCKROACH THE SIZE OF MY HAND*. I am so close to giving up and burning this mothereffer down but then I’d have no where to keep all of my books and yarn.

I am really looking forward to my vacation in Warshington, where cockroaches are only in the grossest places you can think of (and only because they can’t survive in the ecosystem naturally) and not in my home or workplace or hotel or wherever it is I’m staying.

*The size of my hand when I was four years old.

There is a place that I thought of, that I’m pretty sure doesn’t exist and that it’s mine.

There are people who live there, who I’m pretty sure don’t exist except for inside me.

This could be interesting.

Tom is not laid off, so this summer vacation is actually just summer vacation and not the last desperate 10 weeks until his paychecks run out!

Sort of glad it’s Friday, but Monday is when Tom might receive a lay-off notice, so the weekend probably won’t be too fun. UGH.