June 2, 2002
Morning Latte
Look the fuck at this. That's right. It's 8:07 in the morning. And I'm awake.
Excuse me while I shudder and long for bed.
Must work at nine today, due to Justin's Baccalaureate. Afterwards, my family is going to the buffet for dinner.
I am going to wear my green paisley skirt and sleeveless black shirt. Please let me look cute. Please let me look cute.
Both Brandon and Chris were in my dream last night. Quite odd, actually.
My stomach is upset but I do not want to eat any breakfast.
I've decided that I really am an old woman. Justin had a party last night with him and all of his friends, many whom I know, in the field just adjacent to our yard. And, despite the fact that I got home about a quarter to ten, when I went over there to talk to him it was not to ask if I could hang out with everybody. It was to tell him to keep the noise down after twelve, because I would be going to bed. And then Hampton and Scott were down by their cars talking, and these just happened to be parked underneath my parents window. So then I got on their case.
I can just see me shaking a cane at young children and going, "Keep that racket down! There are people in here trying to sleep!"
It's sick, it really is. What happened to fun-loving, care-free, cool Jill? O, she got a job.
Though I don't think I was ever cool. Definitely never cool.
My supervisor Nick brought something to my immediate attention yesterday. Eddie Vedder has no business having a mohawk. He already has a misshapen head; why enhance its noticeability?
I suppose I should iron my clothes now. I will likely update letter with the fantastic and riveting details of my day.
Those were so the wrong adjectives to be using.
astera at 8:07 a.m.