second official consecutive monday of unemployment, and the worthlessness is creeping in. without a modus operendi, even for just a few days, or a light at the end of the tunnel, my clever thoughts turn sour, my dirt-pounding runs seem futile, scrubbing the bathroom floor on my hands and knees never seems to really get it clean, and i am reduced to being a fat, unattractive, vapid waste of fucking air.

i need a job. or a hobby. hell, i should volunteer, even.

today, being without a car, even a shitty one with no muffler, i have, in chronological order:
eaten toast.
read the times.
emailed resumes and tutoring flyers.
rewashed all the dishes from the dishwasher by hand.
scrubbed the bathroom, including mixing CL with bleach, burning my lungs to an unknown degree.
washed laundry, including the handwashables.
ate lunch with h and bruce at carr's corner. the quiche was delightful. as was the strawberry pie, although i should have gotten a cup of coffee with it, since i was freezing all day.
lost the dog; wandered around the neighborhood yelling for a while until i began to attract attention.
found dog. in roommate's room.
tidied the rest of the house.
fretted about valentine's day, gifts for h, my low self-worth and how i might as well not even get anything for h, because everything i do is stupid and in poor, cheap taste because i am stupid and poor and have no taste. and fat.
ran. and then reran what i already ran. unwound some of the crazy in my tightly coiled , bored head.
read an essay on dada.
showered.
blogged.
about to buy a website.

the fucking end.