God I want to get the fuck out of here. Ok, I said it. The only problem with this town - for me - is this feeling like I've constantly JUST quit smoking. And the real pisser is, I can't go anywhere. I have to stay and buck up. Maybe if my attitiude was just a little better. But then i don't even believe that.
Sunday night is tough. There's never enough time. I don't want to sleep, I would like to unflod it back into a weekend (Hell, I'd just like to have the weekend all over again.

I have this obsessive ritual of trying to find a good place for everything. I move stuff all around this house, tring to attain some perfection of plaement, so that it's there when I need it. I try hanging my motorcycle helmet in the garage for a change, and on a hook next to it i can hang my messenger bag, wirth all the crap I'll need at work tomorrow... But then I wanted the bag for something else, and it's down in the garage. I think: perhaps I need another bag. I need two of everything (I'm alreadyt doing that).

There's a lot of resistance in life these days. As hard as I try to make a plan and see it through; the shit gets away from me. All I managed to do this weekend is hang a picture on the wall - and it's crooked. I keep telling myself that I'm lucky, and thing could be a lot tougher, but it seems like I need Norton disc utilities, on my fucking brain. It's age isn't it?

I'm going to quit my job tomorrow, or a leats anounce to Brad that i need two moths to finish fixing up my own place. I'm sorry to have to do it. I really like Brad, and I'm going to miss the relationship.