One bonny moonlight Christmas Eve "They met at that sad place..."

[psalm_onethirtyone]

I am sad, for I have not been able to write in an age. I have not got the time any longer.

But everything else is, really, well, so I am not sad, or I do not mean to be. I bought Charlie little notebooks and I am going to make a CD of Bruno Pelletier and that will make me awfully happy, and to the library to-morrow, and oh, you know. Loads of things. Very good things, and I shall be happy, but all the same I am tired.

And I wish I had the time to write, but just as I have no time to sleep, I have no time to write. I cleaned the refrigerator and the space under the counters where the pots and pans are and I swept the kitchen and cleaned the stove and I treadmilled and went to acting class and did my schoolwork, and Waen got mad at me for not going outside.

Only I have not got time to go outside, either.

I rather want to go off somewhere and sleep for a long, long time. Mum thinks I am coming down with stomach flu. ^^; Just like me, really.

But I am happy, you know. I have nothing to be sad about. It's spring at finally, and every day is so bright and there's so much to do and I have finally reached a sort of equity with myself and my self-image--I am going to go on maintenance at WW as soon as I run through the last of my prepaid coupons, which means that I only have about six weeks left on the diet; and the play really seems as if it may go well after all; and work is so wonderful and I love all my people so dearly.

I am awfully happy.

Only that I'm not quite, and I don't know why. V. silly. Shall probably improve to-morrow, at any rate.

H'm. Did do summat at gleamswhichpass, too, which ought to be enough. I am a silly girl.