Welcome To My Bed

Home, day 2.

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I never know if what I'm saying is going to dredge up something awkward. My grandmother made a sex joke yesterday when I was talking with her and my mother. Now I don't know what to expect from anyone. Today is supposed to be tag sales and then I must cater an engagement party, but so far only the later of those two things is definite.

Mother's Day is giving me a slight heart attack, mostly just because I haven't gotten my mom a present, and last year I wrote her a poem that made her cry. I don't know if I can make a repeat performance out of that. Maybe I could paint something for her? I have no idea. I need tag sales so I can buy her something really weird and awesome. Ugh.

In addition to watching SciFi Fridays last night with my dad and Owen, I feel like an even bigger weirdo, because my hair is in the most awkward phase of recent memory, topped only by how it looked in my ID picture my freshman year of high school. I want it to grow faster. That would be ideal.