Yeah, I might go into detail eventually. Might not, though. It still irritates me a bit... but then she is a 'grown-up' and as such is expected to be anally paranoid at times, I suppose.

I fell asleep after talking with Caleb. Just now woke up. Wrote to Mistress K...

...and still, incidentally, no email from Kadin. I KNOW he was online - there was a MSN messenger window still up on the computer when I got home, a message from him... but nothing useful. Nothing beyond a couple sentances.

Part of me wants to describe my wonderful weekend. Part of me wants to bitch about Deb, about Kadin's lack of email (he has NO idea how much trouble he's about to get himself into). Most of me is still so tired I can barely focus my eyes. I had just enough time to check my email Saturday morning before I took off... and as I said, didn't get back until Sunday, today, at 5:00-ish.

Yeah, it was fun. No regrets.

Dammit, why do people seem determined to poke holes in my VERY FUCKING RARE good days?

A few things of random interest - no messages from Nre, either... but then, that actually doesn't surprise me. Boy-Ashamed's diary is now password protected. I have a huge blister on one foot. There are a LOT of people upstairs roleplaying. I can't seem to sleep. I am in a HELL of a lot of pain at this point - I'm still bleeding. Ten days and I'm still bleeding heavily. Is that supposed to happen? I am completely out of Vicodin, and... well... someone who owes me some had none. This is so very very bad. I drank coffee and got SO wired. I have a new vibrating toy. Two of 'em, actually. And five new books. And my head hurts. I really wish I was asleep right now. I'm going upstairs to sit by Caleb and read and take an 800mg Motrin in hopes that it will help. I really don't think I'm a prostitute. I really don't think I am a slut ALL the time. I really do think that if I am supposed to regard this place, the apartment, as my home, it's reasonable to occasionally allow a few people that I personally trust to know where I live, other residents notwithstanding. If I can't do that, it's NOT my home. Not my house. Not somewhere I want to be. I think I need to move. But then, I've thought that before... often I change my mind. Guess I'll most likely change it this time, too. Gods, I'm a wuss sometimes.