They won’t let me in the big people library downtown, there was some… unpleasantness.

Earlier this evening, I was sad. And, as one is wont to do, I contemplated ways to not be sad. My first thought was, "I could open a bottle of wine." My second thought was, "I could just go to bed. No, it's like eight in the evening, I'll never fall asleep. Wait, I have Ambien. I could take that." My third thought was, "Ho-shit, son, your first two ideas are alcohol and drugs? You are depressed. Get off your bad decision couch and go do something productive."

And then I thought, "Fuck you, brain, I went to Costco today, that was totally productive. Also, I made that DIY body scrub last night. That counts as doing something."

And then my brain said, "Fuck YOU, Costco was one of at least five things you were supposed to get done today, and you didn't. And you, like, ATE THREE SPOONFULS OF YOUR BODY SCRUB, you are an idiot."

And I said, "It was made of sugar and coconut oil and vanilla! It was edible! STOP YELLING AT ME."

And then I started writing this entry in a supreme bad temper.

( So, here is a spite-fueled lj entry to keep me from spiraling into further destructive depths. )

I need to finish packing and go to bed because I am going to New Orleans for a bachelorette tomorrow. Today. Whatever. I am gloomily already anticipating getting my credit card info stolen at a Bourbon Street burlesque club. It might as well have already happened.