||tired, in need of a shower
there's something about lasagna, you know. the smell, or maybe silent [g]. i thought today, eating a box of it frozen/reheated, that it was perhaps one of the few things i haven't rejected in this 19-month-old life. i remembered then, however, it was the first HALF of ONE THING/DAY/REASON -although, no reason was involved- that forced a finale once.upon.a.time. yes, that & cherry pie, you remember.
there's something about men & money, you know. something about "there's frozen dinners in the freezer, you wont starve." the bad grammar, and "INeloquence," right, or the "everything" bagels & easy mac on the counter he bought for me after 20 minutes of "please, please, please, bring food home." in the fridge we have: pickles, britta water, shredded cheese (a rarity), & various condiments. i can take a photo, if you'd like proof.
the irony of this situation lies in my constant plea, "can we please go to the grocery store? please?" i feel dirty & cheap & fake, but have to ask that way because i've been black listed. i "treat [him] badly." i spend the money i earn on fruit half the time, but he's right- i wont starve (at least not to death).