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Alone.
Mark is off at the computer fixer and then the film store.
I realized how alone I was upon the completion of my purchase of a $75 sofa. I realized that I had no person to lift the other end. I would have been perfectly happy carting it up the stairs myself, but I could not do it.
The perma-buddy - the other end of lifting a couch.
I am trying to ignore the eyes that could see this. I am trying to bjork myself (be the person I am with my grandmother integrated with the person I am when I'm high).
I realized a bit about myself when I realized I would have zero compunction about buying a $75 bag of pot. I would march my fat, stubby legs up to the bank machine and damn the consequences. I wouldn't eat if I had to.
But a sofa, it turns me in spins - makes me feel the feel for not having but one person be a reliable lifter. (Jane would of course, but she's always quite busy and often gone).
Last night (oh is friday night already killed?), trying on these thrift store pants i had purchased in ILM made me happy.
They were pink. I hadn't been able to get my large ass in them in years, and they fit.
I'm attached.
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