So I went to Michigan for a few days, and when I came back I didn’t have cable or internet, because both of those things were in Damon’s name, and he cancelled that shit. So I made a reservation for a technician to come between 12p and 2p today to re-install it, except that no one came, at least not until 2:11p when I was driving back to work and he wondered where I was and I yelled at him and then cried.

So I am writing this from the Lawrence library, which is most likely the most ghetto library in Marion County, although I’ve only been to one so far.  In this county, anyway. Fifteen minutes ago I was turned away from the Fishers Library, the fancy, shiny beacon of book learnin’, when she realized that I actually lived in Marion County, and I tried explaining, I LIVE ON THE BORDER, IF I CROSS THE STREET I AM IN HAMILTON COUNTY but it was not to be, and she pushed some pink brochure at me about a $30 annual fee to visit any library I wanted but I’d need a marion county card first and I coudn’t yell at her because she had such kind eyes, but I definitely cried, because I was getting rejected by a library branch.

I’m at the point where I have good days and bad days, but it’s getting harder to fake my way through the bad days. It’s not so much a breaking down as it is a slow unraveling, followed by a hasty mending —  knit one, pearl two, and so forth.