I find myself descending further and further into full-on crackdom. I keep waking up around dawn and being unable to sleep any more, so I end up exhausted by 9 at night. well, it's better than sleeping all day. I've started to spend routine days with dad, which is kinda nice. 11 a.m., talk about stuff in the newspaper and have snacks. noon, run errands and go somewhere cheap for lunch (after being subjected to a few minutes of "the other half"). back to watch NBC soaps. mom gets home from work and we tell her all that we didn't get accomplished. I'm diggin it.

big event of the day: replacing mom's wiper blades. lesson learned: get someone else to do it from now on. I'm surprised the NAACP hasn't called me out for being in "blackhands" rather than "blackface."

my complexion has also descended into the crack den. I get to greet my fellow fighting quakers looking like a picture of mars. blecch.

and the green grass grew all around...

whoa, what a bizarre couple of days. I really hope that my circadian rhythms are reset now, because I slept a total of 30 hours in the past two days. I woke up at 8 this morning rarin to go. weird.

not as weird as the phone call I got saturday afternoon. picked up, said hello, someone asked to speak with jeremy. I said I was jeremy. he said, "hi." I said, "um, who am I speaking with?" and said caller made me guess. finally I realized...it was joey.

"I want to apologize," he said.

"wow, you're acknowledging that you did something wrong! be more specific. I want to know exactly what you're apologizing for," I shot back.

well, he basically just said "being a dick," which was as good as I was going to get. we exchanged pleasantries before he said, "uh, now that I apologized, I don't know what to say." I replied with, "me either. so see you around school." and that was that. I have to say, I never expected him to ever say he was sorry. I was actually a little impressed. not that I still don't hate his guts.

the time has come to fold my tents and get ready to head back to GSO. well, just to drop my stuff off at the apartment and fly to NY--speaking of which, I gotta call tiffany and make sure it's all go.

on a parting note, I've discovered something new to be irritated with. tiffany was talking about grant's tomb and how both pres. grant and his wife are buried there. ergo, I noted, it should be grants' tomb. in my opinion, they should either move and reinter the mrs. or move that damn apostrophe.

these are the things that make my life a living hell.