Oh brother, I can't I can't get through...
After much back and forth today, my mother led Marble into the minivan and away they went. I was ok. I was fine, Buckley seemed fine. Then an hour later he started acting odd. Dying to go outside, freaking when he hears the neighbourhood dogs barking, and finally, sitting by the door.


Then it makes me sad. And I don't really want to talk to anyone about it. There are phone calls I'm supposed to return today, but I know I'll be lumpy on the phone and then it won't be fun for anyone.

Other than that, the day has been filled with lots of coffee drinking, book reading, visiting with friends, hanging around the house. My parents' reaction to my new apartment was quaint. Everyone admiring my burn blister, which I got last night when perogies exploded in the kitchen.

I've told you I can't cook, right?

Anyway, just another ordinary day but feeling loads quieter. I suppose there will be a few extra side affects of Marble's I hadn't noticed before. And if you knew me before this journal, you'd know Marble is like an extension of me.

But it's hard to act like a pussy when you do all the time, anyway.