Time spent with the gaffer is really hard. It's fun for a while, but when it's time to go separate ways for the evening, I get sad. I shouldn't tell him about it anymore, it sparks discussions that frustrate him, make me sad, and I find myself trying to argue my case once more. It's a futile effort, and I've gone down this route before with someone else who was even more horrible. Remember old jackrabbit?

Same pattern. I didn't learn anything. Gotta just keep my space.
Space = protection. I do not take care of myself in that regard.

I'm wearing the most FANTASTIC red shirt. It's tight and red and darker red striped. I got it a couple of years and when I was thinner, it was my favourite shirt with the one drawback that it's made of synthetic fabric, and I sweat in it terribly. Damn it's a good shirt though.

Here it is, along with the corner of a tree I drew, my messy morning hair, a smelly candle and my camera:

And the boys: