I'm out of things to write about today. I'm spent.
I stood all day long in long lines, playing an immigrant coming through Ellis Island. My lower back hurts. Two little boys made me question parenthood. An old man with sour cream breath would NOT stop talking to me. Joaquin Phoenix smells like a cigarette.
Dean comes home tomorrow after two weeks in Africa. I have to pick up clothes off the floor and file paperwork and sweep and lint roll everything before he gets here. And he misses wheat bread and bourbon, so I need to go to the store.
I just ate a giant hunk of brie because I found it in the fridge. I'm not even hungry. I ate it because it was there. And I was watching The Biggest Loser while I ate it.
That's all I got. Thank you and goodnight.