The twelfth of January is always a rough day for me, a day that evokes a melancholy that I can’t shake after, well, decades.
I was snappish and quick, and mean to Elise.
I threw out bag after bag of PURGE from my basement – things I haven’t touched or barely touched in the year that I’ve been here, they’re going, they’re gone.
I wandered around my apartment staring at things and wondering what to do next, in literal and existential ways.
I wished for this day to be over, basically from the moment I woke up, so I’m going to put a new book on my Kindle (the one I borrowed last is just too depressing) and be thankful that this 1/12 came and went without a tear.