Just before 5 p.m. I wake up and walk to the shop to retrieve my car, now fully installed with a hydrogen generator. No emissions and increased miles per gallon coming my way soon.
Breakfast: English Muffin with Peanut Butter. Orange Pineapple Juice. Zinc.
Musicplayer practice. Trying out a new song and refreshing other ones. Song title ideas: Digaboot or Bugaboo?
Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.
Margot’s still stuck at home. She wants company. I come over and bring Phase 10 by request. Liar Liar on the TV. She’s a phase behind me and I sense that potential bad sportsmanship attitude start in her. I try to drown it out with hugs and affection of the like. She wins in the end anyway.
She paints the ring fingernail to my right hand [photo above].
Me: “Recently, it feels like we’ve been dating. Is that weird?” It even feels new to me.
Talking about my guy’s night out tomorrow and going to The Wave for some good old fashioned dancing. She encourages me to get a girl’s number. I don’t like it when she seems to support the idea of me being with somebody else. It makes me feel a little sick inside. “Margot, I don’t want anyone else. I would give you devotion if you wanted it.” She’s skeptical. C’mon baby, what is love to you? I haven’t always said ‘I love you’ until we started dating. And since then it’s sprouted into something real for me, and you know I don’t say things like that lightly.
Her: “Last night when I woke up I wished you were here with me cause your touch helps me sleep.”
I tuck her into bed and lie down next to her for a while. I just love being close to her like this. “I want you so bad, you know that?”
Back home, eating Dinner: Sun Dried Tomato Chicken with Rice and Mixed Vegetables. Fresh Roasted Garlic Naan Bread.
Starting Last Chance Harvey [2008]. It’s striking an emotional chord in me for some reason. The first 30 minutes I’m just thinking to myself, I don’t ever want to be a single divorced father with children and experience that kind of rejection. I will do everything I can to make sure that never happens.
Newspaper route.
Coast to Coast AM—Travis Walton is on the show recalling his alien abduction, which happens to be one of the best documented cases ever recorded. There was an inaccurate Hollywood depiction of it called Fire in the Sky [1993].
Thinking about you. Imagining a movie-esque scenario: I walk right up to you and say with a demanding voice, “Look, you’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And I’m yours. And that’s the way it’s gonna fucking be.” I grab your face and kiss your lips with a desperate passion. You respond with the same. Unfortunately, it’s only in my imagination, for now at least.
Back home. The dishes and silverware (especially spoons) tend to pile up like mountains in the sink. Considering I eat most of my meals in the house, I accept some as my responsibility, but man, this is getting obnoxious. I’ve come to accept the chore of cleaning all the dishes when I get home from work. It’s whatever.
Eating a bowl of Cherrios with Cinnamon Bunches and Brown Sugar.
Trouble shooting the hydrogen generator in my car—mixing the solution.
Grapes.
Finishing Last Chance Harvey.
Sleep 10:30 a.m.
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