Dan and I were supposed to go up to the Amana colonies for this Labor Day weekend and then go camping afterwards near the Mississippi River.
But then he woke up this morning with an extreme sore throat, maybe strep. So instead I've been writing and am glad of it. I love spending languid days reading and writing, with unabounded freedom.
I still need to shower, though it's 3 in the afternoon.
I am unintentionally losing weight.
I feel better.
Sometimes I briefly like the way my hair looks when I first wake up, then I actually wake up and realize it's a sloppy fray and array of feather-like explosion.
Dan is mad at me because I told him I dont want to move to Illinois next year. He thinks we're going to break up over it. I think he's being extreme. I'm oddly not worried about it, now that I've made up my mind. But I dont like that he's fretting.
I'm still pretty much a huge baby.
I'm probably never going to grow up.
My cat was lying on my books this morning so I couldn't read them. I stared at his fur in the sun instead and tried seeing past the tiny slits of his eyes, but all that happened was that I was overcome with cute emotion.
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