I'd hate to have me hanging around if I weren't me.

Actually, I hate having me around even though I am me. Does that prove my point or just confound it?

So anyway, I think I'm a giant leap closer to my destiny of becoming a woman who throws cats at random passers by, or even to becoming a mass murdering postal worker (minus the postal worker part). No biggy.

Mother wanders in claiming it's june. She wasn't far off, only a week and two letters. Still.

I see my life ripping off psycho now. I spend the rest of my life caring for mother until she is gone and I have no one and I set up a hotel and go psycho and cut off men's genitals while they're showering.

By the time the authorities catch me I will have a pile of men's genitals sitting in the basement looking alarmingly rotty.

Note to self: get a basement.

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