Laura had a dream that I told her Kim and I had fought again, and that I had stabbed her in the throat with a syringe (which I just spelled wrong).
I suppose that is a tad bit extreme, but seriously (seriously). There is now a new boy who frequents our room almost more than I do. Except now that I have resigned to becoming a recluse, I spend a lot more time in the room than I did when Joe was dating her. So now it is definitely a lot less okay.
Example: I was on the phone on Sunday night and they come in at about 11:45 and climb into her bed where they proceed to whisper to each other and kiss randomly until finally 1:30 or so when he leaves.
Yesterday I came into the room and he was lying on the bed alone, and she was not here. 'Cause that is not weird. Nope.
And today I come in from lunch, and there are a pair of boy shoes strewn over my rug.
MY RUG. That is my territory, my possession, MINE. Unacceptable.
Thank God I leave tomorrow because I do not think that I could deal with this for a week. Oh no. Although I guess it doesn't help that I am tired and stressed and have a lot to do today. And here I am ranting on my blog.
-goes to find syringe-