yay! nerdboy2345 drove all the way to fucking Rogers Park to buy one of my painting yesterday. For this I am grateful.
In other news, I am super depressed and worried and just generally not a happy Esme. I have broken down crying thrice in the last 25 hours. Once at the end of dinner. Once in Trader Joe's. Once in front of my mother, who I cannot tell about the porch because she loves me unconditionally and I do not want to make her waver in this. And so while she seems to find it credible that my moving worries are simply basic "where will I live and can I afford it?" worries and not "where will I live and can I afford it, especially now that my paltry savings are probably going to be sucked entirely up by paying for one very, very, very stupid mistake," I still feel so guilty taking her sympathy.
And it is midnight (nearly) and I should be in bed.
In other news, I am super depressed and worried and just generally not a happy Esme. I have broken down crying thrice in the last 25 hours. Once at the end of dinner. Once in Trader Joe's. Once in front of my mother, who I cannot tell about the porch because she loves me unconditionally and I do not want to make her waver in this. And so while she seems to find it credible that my moving worries are simply basic "where will I live and can I afford it?" worries and not "where will I live and can I afford it, especially now that my paltry savings are probably going to be sucked entirely up by paying for one very, very, very stupid mistake," I still feel so guilty taking her sympathy.
And it is midnight (nearly) and I should be in bed.
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In no way do I hold it against my tattoo artist. He's a pro.
No fuzzy robe for me (except for my bathrobe