A.M.
The rain comes down.
I've really got into this cleaning thing. I'm pulling shit out of the attic for the hard rubbish on Friday. It's amazing what's up there; sets photos of three boyfriends; stuff from numerous flatmates; pictures; sketch pads; paintings; old writing. I've got to force myself not to stop and just look at it all.
The front porch is stacked with rubbish to put out Friday.
P.M.
I didn't go riding. I didn't go running. I didn't go walking. I didn't write any thing. I watched the rain come down instead.
Still no pot, despite everyone promising today. But, that dawned on me this morning, so I've tried not to think about it. I cleaned up my desk and then scraped it, and got two joints off it. It's where I make my mull, as I write. I know, gross. But, I spent the afternoon stoned trying not to think about it, at least. And I have a clean desk.
Nicotine is pulling me back.
I went to the supermarket.
Now I'm going to watch Idol.
20.15
The dope's on it's way. Yay! I'm only going to have one. Pathetic, I know.
I just don't know what got into me this weekend? Life adrift, the most exciting thing going was cleaning the attic. My ex has gone back to Sydney. She rang me from the taxi on the way to the airport. She still thinks I'm a pig. Of course, pot isn't good for that. It's not one of life's biggest motivators. But once I got the smoking thing in my head yesterday, it was intense, really insane. It was constant, I just couldn't shake it, not completely.
The weekend is over. The sun has gone down. Time to iron a shirt.
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