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I'm looking to have some elective surgery and a requirement is that I stay off the dope for six months.

In the last decade or so, the longest I have gone without getting high is two weeks because I was in another country where weed is illegal.

Probably going to be drunk more.

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The spiders in my fridge are so very large and fat because they are sucking the juices out of thousands of dead fruitflies whose bodies have been kept plump and moist by what little refrigeration there is.

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If I stand up, right now, grab a wad of toilet paper, and crush all of the spiders in my shower (at least four), I would be demonstrating direct action and a desire for change. I would also be snuffing out four lifeforms just living and this faux moral dilemma is enough for me to justify my continued laziness.

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My apartment has no vermin, but is also a mess. Currently, the plumbing is not draining properly and I can hear the effects in my neighbours's bathrooms which leads me to believe that an inspection or repair may soon be required.

I am cleaning, I am purging trash, specifically, and I am fearful.

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There is rotting meat somewhere in my apartment and I cannot find it. I am surprised by this.

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Found it. I feel pride at this accomplishment.

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There is rotting meat somewhere in my apartment and I cannot find it. I am surprised by this.

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Getting super high before I go out is obviously making me more nervous than necessary. Jeepers H.

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I haven't been too well, I realize, but not in any way I can immediately define and I stop digging there.

I drank 12 Twisted Teas this evening. It is trash. Its cost is not worth its effects.

[In reading this over, I reminded myself that I bought this nonsense from a convenience store, through a food delivery app. No shit the cost isn't worth it.]

Today, I watched an episode of Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia that framed the drinking of 12 beers in a single evening as outrageous degeneracy, and, thus, humorous. And I bet their shit was 5%.

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I am currently communicating with my mother through text (gmail) and I think she thinks I am drunk because I turned down her offer to bring me (already purchased, sitting in her trunk) alcohol.

If that is what she thinks, she is right. I am drunk and each message I send her is, I believe, only supporting her (accurate) assumption and I can't figure out what in my text communication is giving that away. The grammar? The length? The content itself? The speed of the reply? The fug.

Of course, I am determining this from what she has sent me in text. That is, short, deliberate sentences.

I am so bad at this. Communicating. At all times with all people.

Otherwise, things have been fine, I say as I look over past entries. I have barely felt the requirement to post here as of late. Things have been fine. I am fine with fine. The aforementioned situation is a little unsettling, but I'll ponder that better when I am sober.

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The guy delivering my alcohol once called me sir, then corrected himself. "I said, that's fine, dear." When I provided my ID, he took the required verification picture and then squinted at the ID itself, looking for the gender marker. He then nodded and went on his way.

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I am useless trash, but not actively harmful.

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Eesh. Sucks to suck.

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I agreed to a visit with a high school buddy just for the free lunch. I'm typically out of money and most food at the end of each month, so anything not noodles will be a treat.

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I have been eating and drinking and giffing way too much. I think it is because I now have energy, but no practical outlets. Got to transition that shit.

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I now realize things have been going off the rails as of late.

During the last week, on two separate occasions, I have found a loose, fully-intact egg in my living room.

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Oops, mouse. Hopefully, the cat gets that by morning.

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When I left my bedroom hours later, my cat was chasing the mouse down the hall having not yet exhausted it. I failed to grab the mouse and it either lodged itself safely in a radiator, or escaped through the gaps between the floor and the wall, into the guts of the building.

Regardless, my cat caught a mouse last night (a different one, smaller) which I yanked from his mouth and then dropped out a window.

I'm proud of my cat. I want him to have more mouse good times.

[charm-and-pity]

I found two dead mice this week, so, taking into account the possibility that the living mice I encountered then returned and ended up dead, there has been at least two mice this week to a maximum of four.

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Dead mouse.

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Dead mouse.

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Dead mouse.

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Dead mouse. This is a handy wasy to keep track of the dates.

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Dead mouse. Good cat.

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Dead mouse, though I hadn't been in my kitchen for days, so this date is not accurate.

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Mouse. Not dead this time. Took it from my cat and dropped it out a window.

Legit thought maybe there would be no more mice, but there will always be mice.

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Mouse. Possibly playing possom. Dropped out of window.

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Dead mouse. Extremely crispy and amongst laundry I've not touched in months, so the date of discovery doesn't mean much.

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Dead mouse :(

Sad face for me, not the mouse.

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Dead mouse. It's been a while.

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Dead mouse.

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Dead mouse.

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I only talk on Sundays.

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Last night, out of necessity, I went to a crowded public space and sat and (occasionally) spoke with others for about four hours and, holy shit, I cannot compete nor can I acclimate. It is insane I am of the same species.