What happens on Wednesdays.
I don’t know why I end up at my worst on Wednesdays, but I always do. I’m exhausted. I hate daylight savings time and the fact that it’s dark now when I leave work.
While sitting in my bed just now, reading, a little moth fluttered out from the space between the wall and the side of my bed that I don’t sleep in. If that’s not a comment on how long it’s been since I’ve gotten laid, I don’t know what would be.
Last night I had an updated version of the same nightmare I have most nights, where I’m getting to houses that I have to sleep in and finding them disturbing spaces in nuanced ways. Last night it was this old mansion with two staircases on either side of it, and no bedrooms, but like six or seven sitting rooms full of strange, beautiful antique couches.
One of the rooms I slept in had a white chaise lounge with brass legs, positioned opposite an old ornate sofa with rose-colored velvet cushions. That room was definitely haunted. I woke up and freaked out about it a little and went into another room where my friend was sleeping, but there were these creepy slow-moving bugs all over in there, huge bugs, the length of the palm of my hand. They were sort of yellow and lizard-like with wings the texture of cockroach shells.
