I put the sat in Saturday

I went into work today to avoid conflict. I was pretty sure I'd leave soonafter.
I left at about 11 because I felt like shit. Physical pain isn't unsual for me while working, but as long as the task doesn't invlove me delving too far into my mind, I can usually grin (or not even bother) and bare it. Today, when a delightful couple came in to ask me about hiatus hernia, hypertension and haircolour, I almost said I couldn't help them. I was at a loss for words. Evnetually, after hesitatingly showing them a couple of products, I offered to photocopy something, and the machine jammed.
I had to make like a tree and leave.
Not long after I came home, I began feeling better. My favourite (or at least most frequent_ pastime allowed me to relieve the painful mass in my lower abdomen. I considered returnign to work, and then I got real.
So I tried to go to sleep, but there was way too much comotion on our street-- so I had some toast with tahini and blackstrap molasses and watched The Big Chill, which I had borrowed from Chris's mom a week or so ago. S'okay.
And I checked my email and wrote a letter to Danko Jones (which I probably won't send).
I've started so many Canadian novels lately and not been able to finish them-- As For Me and My House, The Mountain and the Valley, Sunshine Sketches of a Small Town, the Manticore... I don't think it's the books themselves, but for some reason... ugh... So I, wanting to read something, and again, something specifically Canadian, grabbed an old favourite from my shelf-- Margafret Laurence's The Fire Dwellers. As I began, I realized I don't remember a thing about this book, other than that the protagonist has a dull marriage and seeks ways to cpice it up. I remember a scene of mutual masturbation. That's about it. So far, I've gotten further than the last few books I've opened lately. I'm hapy because I already know I like it, but can't remmeber that the hell happens.
And I went to sleep for a few hours this afternoon, and dremmpt a medley of dreams, which I didn't bother to record. But I do vaguely remember having a spotty lucid dream, but more that I was aware than me actually bothering to control it. I do remember rolling over, kind of somersault style on the couch, and me worrying I was going to fall off.
Supper-- some broccoli soup that I'd frozen for such lazy sick circumstances, and a piece of bread.
Tonight I checked the jobbank, which I chronically do, because I'm never truly satisfied with my work, read more of my book, and read some of the entertainment mags that Emly got from a friend. I mostly look at the pictures and captions, but for some reason I read about Mary-Kate Olsen's battle with anorexia. I thought that The Unorexics would be a great name for the band I feel like starting, but perhaps it's in terrible taste.
Speaking of terrible, I got an email from Greg that had an attatchment from the architecture school, announcing the sudden death of one of their students, as well as plans for the funeral, etc. He died of a brain aneurysm. Fuck. I don't think I'd met him, but Greg was a big fan of his. How sucky can it get? The students plan to build one of his designs this fall. And although I think Greg is in support of it, he has instructed me on two occasions (also when another classmate died last year) that if he died young, to not let the students build his designs. I'm pretty this is out of modesty.
And here it on a Saturday night, me wanting to see the Hold, but a) feeling crappy and b) no one's around to go with me. Nick's mom used to say "Saturday night is for couples-- Nick should be with you! I'll get him to give you a call," long before we were actually together. I want to just do something-- couple's night or Tall Ships Day or Pre-Acadie 400 celebration, whatever. I wanted to in spirit, but not in body.
So I didn't.
Just sat here.
I put the sat in Saturday.