07.21.04 - 5:40 p.m.

What a day - I drove a nail through the base of my right middle finger - oh, god, okay, i'm exaggerating, not the base, the skin, but it's a bad, bad cut, four square centimeters of skin gone at the base of my middle finger, where the skin should flex and move, making it difficult to type, ragged and ugly margins, and a tunneling wound through the skin to the base of my ring finger, which is closed, but whose terminus is a painful white bump surrounded by white skin. I hope it doesn't get infected. :( I slathered with cream, and now have a big bandaid and some tape over it so I can type. Man, it bled alot, though. And of course, while it was bleeding I had to go mow the lawn. And the lawn mower - my green, unpowered, push mower - perfect, perfect! - I thought - my green lawn mower is hard to use, and fell apart while i was using it. There's a narrow strip of green unmowed yard, and then the rest mowed. I should have searched the yard for the bolts and nuts, but I couldn't be bothered. It was late, I was tired, sweating seriously, because the push mower is hard work, and still bleeding. I'm sure it was cooler than a buffet for the mosquitoes, it was more like a trough. No work to do!

So that's a serious frustration: I'm really irritated, but it's my fault no matter how I stack it. Heh. I forgot to, uh, tighten the bolts with actual, you know, tools. I just did it by hand. So STUPID. God. I could kick myself in the head. Then there are the other things - some of which I can fix, some of which I can't. They don't bear thinking about, it's not worth getting angry over the things you can do nothing about. I do have the phone on at my house now, though. I had to spend a ridiculous amount for this month's service, some all-inclusive plan, in order to avoid the UTTERLY RIDICULOUS "connection fee." The house is already connected, all they had to do is turn on a switch somewhere, but they want to...

...argh! Can't do anything about it, so, I'm just going to go hog wild and call everyone, everywhere. Or something like it. It's nice to have the phone working there, though.

I'm so mad about my trash can. That's what I'm most mad about, seriously - that took active freakin' asshole malice! Who steals a trash can? Why the hell would you steal someone's trash can? That is - absolutely - the ...

it's a TRASH. CAN.

I'll be so glad to be out of my apartment, I can't wait. I hate everyone there. I wanted to walk around knocking on doors and asking who stole my effing trash can. I wanted to put up a big sign: Dear Whoever STOLE my TRASH CAN, You cannot get grungier than the person who steals a trash can. That was mine and I want it back. It may be cheap, but you are still an effing thief, I hope you die DIE DIE.

I put the trash out - at my new house, not my apartment because SOMEONE STOLE MY NEW ROLLING TRASH CAN AT MY APARTMENT - and so on.

I love my house, though, and then I hate it. I love the windows, I love the way light slants through them. I love how I can sit in the living room and just ... not have anyone attached to me. I'm tired of being an ant-crawling extra-people having person with all these people attached to me! No more people!

Also: I would like to say that I'm tired of Dubya (I wanna be the Peace President) and I'm also tired of Kerry (I share your values) and I'm also tired of Farenheit 9/11, and I'm going to brave the grand opening of the new Wal-Mart this evening to buy myself an effing trash can.