Nothings.

You know those days when you're just very glum, and you yell at your husband for nothing in particular (and yet for everything: never making the bed or doing his lunch dishes or making money); when you desperately need a vacation, and looking in the mirror makes you feel like committing hari kari?

I'm having one of those days. My naturopathic regimen is doing a great job of keeping arthritis at bay, and an equally good job of giving me tremendous acne. I'm beginning to look like someone ate Elmo, had indigestion, and then threw up all over my face. And I'm just cranky, too. I finally have 2 entire, consecutive days off--a first since Christmas--and I'm too embarrassed to leave the house, which needs cleaning, anyway.

I did meet our new neighbors (well, one of them), whom I am determined to be friends with. T and I are both tired of having polite but superficial relations with our neighbors. It would be so nice to come home and share a beer out back, and feel comfortable asking someone to look after our cat and vice versa. Jennifer and John seem like really friendly people, so we may be in luck. They're also closer to our age; for too long we've been surrounded by silly college students who are in the dramatic throes of living together for the first time. I teach the fools. I don't want to live with them. Anyway, I'm going to invite the newbies over for a slamtastic wheat-free, dairy-free, sugar-free, caffeine-free dinner. Maybe we'll all develop moderate acne from dietary asceticism and form a club.

I do intend to leave the house to go to the gym in an hour or so, and to take a hike and have a BBQ with some friends tomorrow afternoon. One can't hide one's face forever--it's vain, and of all the seven sins I could commit today, I'd much rather indulge in gluttony and sloth.

So, I suppose that's all. If I was a songwriter or novelist I could write an angsty and yet emotionally accessible and literarily genius piece about my acne and become a millionaire. Alas, I am neither of those things, and so must content myself with some red bush tea and a rice flour scone, and the sunshine, which is quite nice despite one's unhappiness.