Mornings should be at least after noon.

I have come to the conclusion that my roommate needs to pop that kid out and get on some prozac or something. She gets crabby for no reason, slamming down plates and glasses, stomping around here like the ground has done something to offend her.
Its actually kind of amusing, or would be if I didn't fear for my life.

Not that she'd kill me. But come on, she's 8 months pregant and moody as hell. I leave a dish out and shes liable to snap. But thats not going to make me put the dish away after midnight when I was at work for 7-8 hours. Hahah. Nope!

But she is gone now and peace has been restored to the land of Jen. Thankfully.

Oh, remember how I casually mentioned that writing gig I sent my stuff into? Didn't get it. Knew I wouldn't so I'm not very upset. I mean it'd be nice, but at the same time I am fully aware that most of the world has better writing skills than myself.

I'm mildly irritated with John at the moment. I told him to wake me up at 830 since tomorrow I have to be at work at 930, I figured two days in a row of getting up early would be a good thing.
He called me at 830, and then called me again at 1045.

Sigh. Oh well, I guess the shit I wanted to do today can wait, eh? Nothing pressing, of course.
I'm so crabby. I hate that I gain others emotions through osmosis. I wish my damn roommate would be happier.

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