i'm reading the book socrates suggested. i have to wait until the monkey is in bed, because i can't seem to concentrate enough on it while there's background noise. i tried reading it at dance last night. i knew i was reading the words, but they meant nothing to me. self help books are so "bleh" that way. it's good, don't get me wrong. but i have a stack of fun stuff to read. new fun stuff. do know what a draw that is to me? i leave telly unwatched to read new fun books!
socrates called last night, because he said he would. he'd almost forgotten and went off to play poker, but then remembered and called. thanks sweetie, i think. he was all excited when i referenced the book he wanted me to read. how adorable is that?
why do i have to be such a girl that when socrates does something sweet and thoughtful, that even though i know it's sweet and thoughtful and can acknowledge it as that, that i STILL look deeper. WHY? it bothers me. a lot. i'd like that to stop now, please. i find it irritating in me.