We watched Binx, the cat whose diary took up the last six days, for about a week in August. It made me rethink owning two cats at once. My husband, Michael, asked if we could get a miniature pig instead. I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen, especially since we live in an apartment.
I'm so hungry right now that there'd be no scraps left to give to a pig. We've needed to go grocery shopping for several days now, but with my husband's horrible work schedule and my lack of driver's license, my stomach has grumbled all week.
I dreamed that I was a student in high school and that my teacher Irene was being targeted by some unknown, yet dangerous person with a lot of men at his/her disposal to use to assassinate Irene. One of the men fiddled with the lockers, including mine, that we assumed they had bombs in them. Irene, a male teacher I assume is her boyfriend or husband, and I escaped in his car and went to one of my relative's places. A man arrived with a package for Irene that's empty, but he attacked with a deadly spray. I ran.
I'm not very creative today. Actually, I'm feeling sick. I hope my stomachache goes away. I finally slept for a full 8 hours (I woke up a few times but went back to bed), but now I have to deal with stomach issues. I blame it on the beef jerky my husband made, but he thinks it's all in my head. He had the meat sitting in the fridge for almost a week before he finally dehydrated it for five hours to make it into jerky. Maybe I am paranoid, but I'm not imagining the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.
My sister-in-law gave me a writing prompt to help me out with my writer's block. She gave me the prompt back in March. I've only now begun to really think about it, about how I would write the story of Liz, a day-time book reviewer but night-time stalker. Well, the prompt doesn't say she stalks at night, but I like the sound of it. Her goal is to find true love, but the barista at Starbucks has become her obstacle. I think I want to make the story silly and romantic instead of heavy and tragic.
We wait in the airport. I try not to cry by keeping myself busy, talking nonsense with a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. I try not to think about tonight or tomorrow or the next day, but inevitably my heart aches at the thought of missing his voice, his touch, his presence. I miss him even though he still sits next to me playing on his DS. Turning to him, I bury my head in his chest as I stifle the urge to bawl. He kisses my cheek, wipes away my tears, then tightly wraps his arms around me.
A gentle breeze glides through the open window. The curtains look as though they breathe as they billow out with the wind and get sucked back into the window a moment later. The breeze softly lifts my hair and caresses my neck, sending chills down my spine. I shiver. Goosebumps form on my arms. I rub my hands against my arms for some warmth; then I walk to the window and close it. The wind wafts through the room a final time, then relieves my skin of its cold touch. The curtains billow once more before settling, breathing no more.
I have a pack of Wrigley's Extra Sweet Watermelon gum on my desk next to my keyboard. Under the paper flap of the packet, it mentions hot dog gum in jest. That is just gross. I know that bacon has become a popular flavor to make into everything, like hot sauce and gum, but imagine if they made it all hot dog flavor. I don't mind eating hot dogs, and bacon is just delicious, but I wouldn't want their flavors made into gum. These are just my musings today as I sit at my computer after only four hours sleep.