April 20, 2003
all over again
I saw Quinton off with a hug and a "Bye, daddy" from him. That's how it goes every other Sunday evening at the Crackerbox. Jack left with all of his stuff in a plastic Kroger's bag after saying, "I sure do like staying at your house, Mr. Rob. Can I come back again?"
This shit sucks.
We went to see my Mom and Grandma today, and I took some more pictures. I can't get the bastards to load on my computer. Every time I try, the satanic forces embedded in the HP netherworld hiss and grind at me, but they never cough up an image. I have a picture of my new derringer in there, too, dammit. This shit also sucks.
I don't expect a knock on my door and a lusty woman ready to share my bed tonight. I expect the day to go downhill from here, where it sucks already, and I'll have the entire evening all to myself, in all its suckdom. For a fairly small house, the Crackerbox surely can feel empty sometimes.
At least I don't have to get up and go to work tomorrow.
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