I tiptoe down the stairs, wince at how loud my typing is, pray the coffee maker finishes soon it will just stop making all that noise... I'm horribly considerate.
My father stomped down the stairs, stood out here and talked to me in his loud grumble, has slammed a few doors, and stirred his coffee like he was a chimpanzee trying to make pretty music.
I swear we can't be related.
I accumulated two more mosquito bites while I slept too. Why this suprises me, I don't know. It just seems... rude... that not only do I get bit while wide awake (fair and level playing field, I think) but when I'm also sleeping (totally fucking offsides).
the count is now 6.
I'm tired of the mosquitos being bigger than the flies.
I'm fucking exhausted. I slept really badly.
I should have asked him to call back when that one minute warning kicked on the phone card. Because my brain was working too much just then. It took forever to get comfortable and then I woke up ever five minutes or so for the rest of the 4 hours of sleep.
That's alright. I'll sleep tonight. I hate going to bed early. Because I'm just not that type of person. My natural inclination is to be up until 5am.. sleep until noon.
But when you have to be at work at 7am... natural inclinations must change. So I miss him a lot. I hate getting off the phone when I know that it's early as hell where he is. I use him as my goodnight call.... my tucking in... but I can never seem to do the same for him.
I guess I could call him when I wake up and wake HIM up and THEN tuck him in.. but that kinda looses the sweetness.
"wake the fuck up so I can feel okay about saying goodnight"
My feelings scare me. I know why they scare me. He knows why they scare me. And because I know why and he knows why, I think it might be okay. I think it might be... safer somehow. Though, of course, it's never safe. This isn't going to hurt me. This isn't going to sting and scar. This is not a bad thing. This is good. Very very good.
So I'm going to apply the vermin principle to my feelings. I'm bigger than they are. They're more scared of me than I am of them. And I'll stomp when I walk to chase them out of the brush in front of me.