8:07 a.m. - November 21, 2003
I am partly uncomfortable, partly intrigued and I wonder how much of my reticence and eagerness is no more substantive than a pursue-me vainglory complex. I don't need to worry about airborne toilet water particles or somebody else's hair strands in the shower or toast particles in the butter. She knows all these things and would abide, be meticulous so what's the big deal, right? When people are inside, I feel they pity me, think I'm strange or weird in a not-so-good way. I don't know if that's wholly accurate; there's something else that makes me sweat when I think of people inside, even people I know and trust well. I figure I need to control that anxiety (if that's what it is) before it gets any worse and I end up carting my home around with me wherever I go. I've heard cardboard is easy to carry. Okay, dumb joke all you elitist liberal do-gooders. I'm not sure what I'm even saying, just musing. I'm afraid Bathsheba would laugh and I know she wouldn't, but just thinking she could is bad enough.
Sad that I want people in and when given the opportunity, I turn the other way. Really must get a grip.
When I'm up in Seattle I'm going to visit Spec. I don't understand the pull he has over me, why I fall so easily for an apologetic tongue when I know there's more to the story.