a wolf angel is not a good angel

Although I can finish the Monday and Tuesday NYTimes crossword puzzles with ease, I was able to finish barely a third of today’s. Usually I only stall out on Thursday.

I am going to tutor the SATs. Apparently you can get 685$ an hour.

Then, when I am sick of spoiled super rich kids, I will write a tell-all book!

It’s so easy to be sensible about someone else’s choices. It’s so easy to suggest a friend see a doctor, or take drugs[1]: money, after all, is just to be used for living life, and it’s not so easy to live life when you’re depressed.

And yet: I am not entirely sure if I am or not. I think I am, but I can remember being so much worse — and, also, so much better. What is normal? Oh, I know it’s not normal to think about jumping onto the highway. Or is it? I don’t really *want* to, I just think about it, briefly. I do not ever think about jumping onto the metro tracks, though now that I’ve mentioned it, I probably will, just because my brain is perverse like that. So that’s a big mark in the “depressed” column.

But I am looking forward to things. This, to me, is proof that I cannot be depressed, because when I am depressed, I am not looking forward anything at all, ever.

I’m not really sure where I am going with this, mostly because I doubt there is anywhere to go.

[1] Which, as I’ve mentioned a zillion times, make me sicker, so they’re not useful for me in any case.

People who are reading: do not want to be talking instead.

The kitten doesn’t eat our bugs! I thought he did, but in fact he attacks them, chews them a bit, then spits out their corpses.

This is gross.

Sometimes I am so tired but don’t let myself go to sleep.

I know dogs like to roll around in the dirt, but dogs also don’t lick themselves clean. And yet, there the cat was, finding the only pile of dust on the sidewalk and rolling around in it. I really wonder what was in there.

To irritate my sister, I unlock all the doors before I go to bed.

Why do we dislike flipflops? Because they’re supremely uncomfortable[1], that’s why. It makes me sad, because there are some beautiful shoes around — not the little plastic ones, which all the women in this photo seem to be wearing.

[1] Some people claim otherwise. I claim they’re delusional. Little things stuck between your toes = not comfortable.

I must rush off to do grocery shopping. I want to make a quiche — see? Again, without the chocolate. I also want to make chocolate cake, though I suspect I am too lazy.

But the real reason I need to rush is this: it is currently Saturday. Until this evening, all the religious Jews who grocery shop with, on average, 6 children are not going to go to the store. (Yes, it’s fine to bring children to the store. But it’s more pleasant for me when they’re not there, and given that this timing is so predictable, I try to take advantage of it.)

Of course I’m still just in my towel from lunch. Maybe I can convince myself to move fast.