I give up. srsly.

You know it's going to be a bad night when it's almost 11 and you already know you have insomnia. And you haven't even taken off your day clothes yet.




Feh.

Here's what I'm wondering. Why are men allowed to have this job attitude where they're all, "Well I work really hard so you can't bring your day into my headspace." Where does that compute? Women have hard days, too, and work their asses off, and deal with a shitload. I'd love to meet a woman who comes home, and just stops. Throws her feet on the coffee table, turns on the television, gets herself a glass of something cold and alcoholic, and is inviolate in her 'me' time. And when the guy tries to bother her about something he's worried about, or the distance between them, or the fact that Johnny can't read? She gives him hell for it. Tells him to stop worrying, she's home, isn't she? doesn't that mean she loves him?

I'm just sayin.

this friday I have to finish my teapot and throw something else. I think covered vessels. Ginger jars and squared cylinders.