Saturday. Kill time kill time kill time. A boy at my door panics me. Same old magazine spiel that should be easy to get rid of by now. I am afraid to interrupt him; my heart is loud and disruptive; finally I lie to him until he goes away. I resolve not to open the door to strangers; it's stupid and never results in anything good.
Still need jeans and I go to forage for some, but leave the parking lot without going in - apparently the day before Easter is a big shopping day, which might have occurred to me if I'd thought about it. I drive to Paula's house but chicken out - I didn't call, I don't want to bother her. Her father-in-law is in the front yard and I try not to look at him as I drive past; he's cranky.
Home. I've killed two more hours and accomplished nothing. My body and my mind are stuck in mud. There is nothing to do.
Amazingly, three things happen which make it impossible for me to feel rotten any more.
1. A letter from edebroux.
2. A letter from Segenbora-t.
3. A phone call from knarphie.
Combined, these things remind me that communication is possible, and that not everyone sucks, and that this is indeed my real life and it's not all that shitty. I am so distracted by this that I'm able to eat a sandwich, hunger is so close to nausea that I haven't been able to eat all day but now I am on the right side of it, thank God.