5:30 p.m. I get out of bed.
Breakfast: Hot Oat Bran with Brown Sugar, Blueberries, and Milk. Orange Juice. Zinc.
The dishes have piled up in the sink over the past few days. I cleaned half of the clutter yesterday. I ask Elaina (Kyle’s former girlfriend whom he banned from this house but now they’re just friends somehow) if any of these are hers or her friends. Of course, I get a denial response even though I know for a fact that 90% of the dishes sitting in the sink were used by her and/or her friends that have been here recently. I do not have the energy for immaturity and lying, or for that matter, freeloading. Kenneth walks in, so I vent to him about it while I just clean the rest of the dishes myself. This is my house! And I’m not your daddy.
Researching.
Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.
James G. is over here—venting to him about the current events of the house.
He rides with me to Joe’s house to pay back the money spent on a checkup for the car.
It turns out to be a 3-man poker night with Art and James.
Banana and sipping on Coffee.
Super Turbo Rounds—some heavy hands, but in the end, James takes the pot.
Margot comes over after the guys leave. We had made tentative plans to have a sleepover at my place. She gets a little pouty and weird after showing frustration because she won’t stop asking me what I want to do, when I know what she wants to do, which is spend the night. Why do you need so much affirmation to feel secure? Then again, I shouldn’t complain on annoyances of affirmation because, well, I need it too.
A little sexy time at the storage unit. Because of the chilly temperature of the room, I was having a hard time getting it up in the beginning. I mean, our hands were like ice. But in the end, our exchange of pleasure was a success. She teases me a little but assures me she would still love me even if I had erectile dysfunction. “I do not have erectile dysfunction! I’m not that old yet.”
Dinner: Lentil Vegetable Soup with Garlic Bread. Vitamin Water.
On the interstate, heading to the distribution center. A cop pulls me over. He asks me if I have a concealed weapons permit. “No sir.” He asks if I have a concealed weapon. “No sir, I don’t have a concealed weapon.” He asks me if I’ve been drinking. “No sir.” He tells me he pulled me over for speeding. I explain that I’m on my way to work and that I work for The Virginian Pilot (he shines flashlight in the backseat full of newspapers). “This is my girlfriend’s car and I’m still getting used to this V6 engine. Something might be wrong with the speedometer.” He lets me off with a warning.
Doing the route. It’s running smoothly.
Eating a Blueberry Muffin and Milk from 7-11.
Back home.
She’s making rustling sounds in the bed. I like her noises.
Subaru Joe informs me he cannot sell the car just yet because of finances. A little bummed about it because I was really looking forward to this new car.
More car research and shopping.
Sleep 9 a.m.
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