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Saturday, Nov. 30, 2002 / 12:59 p.m. ~No, I'm Not a Lesbian, Really~ Google searches for "I can't clear my throat", "Catherine and Edmundo", "fucking families", "fucking usa" and "nude little russian girls" enticed people to click on links to my diary last night and today. Yeah, the last one is weird. And "Temptation Island" will apparently not have a version 3.0 - I'd all but forgotten about it, except for two recent searches other people performed (for Catherine and Edmundo, two very popular contestants). I have the cold right hand again. I tried putting it between my legs, but it turned out I needed it. I rub it with my left hand occasionally, trying to warm it, to no avail. Look how early it is! I slept really late that first day off, but yesterday and today I've gotten up early. It seems I can't stay up late and sleep late this time around. I slept on the sofa again, never got in bed. Norm and Glad and I slept with just the pansies throw, the TV on, tuned to AMC (which I really no longer like - why, oh why, did it have to become commercial?), the light on, the computer left on too. I wanted to get up a million times, at least to turn off the light, and the computer, but I didn't want to disturb the girls. I awoke to the sounds of familiar music, the crappy soundtrack from "Legend". I initially lay down to watch some movie and I couldn't tell you what if you offered cash. The grossest thing was not brushing my teeth, not washing my face, lying there all oily and dirty, in the same pajamas I slept in the night before and wore all day (I know, I know!), probably leaving greasy spots from my face on the blue sofa pillow. Yuck! I got up and took a long hot shower, actually rinsed and repeated. I am so clean now it's wonderful. But I've got on underwear and jeans in preparation for leaving the abode, and it's actually really hard to do, to leave. It's also uncomfortable to have on underwear and jeans after two and a half days of not. LiveWeatherBug says it's 57 degrees out there. The sun is shining, the wind is gusting, but I feel I should be IN it, I should be OUT there. In. Out. THERE. I'm most afraid of my car. I'm afraid to try to start it after letting it sit for two and a half days. I need to add more oil. I need to drive my garbage to the dumpster. I need to go buy a new VCR, and a new heated mouse. But really, I don't want to leave. I want to put on a clean pair of flannel pants and see what movies are on cable. And I feel tired. Not that I didn't get plenty of sleep, but I had a lot of dreams. One was that my father had died and my brother, his wife and I had to pack up his stuff and sell his house. Um, we already did that, about 11 years ago. Maybe 12. See how I don't even care to remember? And it was the same then, in reality, as in the dream, we didn't get along, we three. They were pushy, I had no control. It wasn't fun. I also dreamed I was a lesbian, but I don't remember much more. No doubt that was from watching the lesbian strap-on party on HBO's "Real Sex" last night. I find lately I'm disgusted by the very idea of sex, so it was kind of hard to watch. In fact, I did change the channel, but became bored with the evening news and switched back to watch more people being sexual. Yuck. Intriguing, but yuck. I also find it odd that the one I met recently gave me three, count them three, works of lesbian literature. And even weirder, two of those three I already own. What does it all mean? No, I'm not a lesbian, if anything I'm asexual. That's beside the point, clearly I'm killing time, and my right hand is not getting any warmer. Now I'm thinking I can't possibly leave until I've had something to eat. Then I think really I should wash some dishes and cook some eggs and bacon, maybe have some instant grits, toast with those new preserves I bought - what kind did I buy? Or maybe some potatoes and onions, maybe another frittata, or an omelet. Or maybe those tofu samosas in the freezer. I can't wait to taste them! Or should I use that free sandwich coupon from McDonald's? That manager just handed it to me, that night at the drive-thru. He said, "Good morning!" and it was around 6:15 p.m. Okay, I think I'm ready now. For whatever. Cost of the War in Iraq
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