It's gonna be a slow day.

I have to keep my spending down for awhile. I've spent quite a ridiculous amount in the last two weeks. Of course, it was mostly money well-spent. I bought a new pair of shoes, combat boots that come up to about an inch below my knee, for $40. When all is said and done, assorted fish stuff will be $50. I bought another large vase for my next fish, and I will probably pick him up Wednesday, since I may be back in PA tomorrow.

My father shattered his right wrist. He didn't simply break it when he fell off the ladder, he pulverized it so badly that they had to re-break it and add 5 pins plus a stabilizing plate. Add that to the fact that he already has metal in his neck and in his knee, and he's on track to become the bionic man. I've never seen him in so much pain-- it's hard to see your parents cry. My aunt, whom he's staying with for a few weeks, said that he cried for a straight day after his surgery on Saturday. So I'm going up Tuesday to get my hair done and keep my siblings occupied.

Their mother, a piece of shit, was once my stepmother who I greatly liked. Add some crack and stir it around (which is what I've heard from more than one source), and you have a raging bitch-monster who refuses to pick her children up from the hospital when their father has had a serious accident. I am getting to the point where I wish her pain. Lots of fucking pain. When she told me she was seeking a divorce, I told her that I understood. My dad wasn't a terribly wonderful husband sometimes, and he's made his mistakes. All of these mistakes pale in comparison to what she's done in the past year, and she's hurting my siblings. Since she's acting like an eighteen-year-old with no obligations, I wish she'd go the hell back to Sweden and leave the kids with my dad and Aunt Linda.

As for dad, he's on lots of Percoset. They wear off way too quickly, and so he sleeps a lot. His fingers look like green-tinted sausages.

Ugh. I'm going to read some today. I got a cell phone, though. Mike and I are sharing a plan, which I guess means I'm stuck with him for another two years. Hehe. Two month s ago, he wouldn't but me on his Blockbuster card, and now we're sharing a binding cell phone plan. I sense genius.

Mike spent most of the day with a two-year old on his hip. Every time he put her down, she'd find her way back to him through a crowd of 15 or so adults and other kids, begging him to pick her up again until he did. The boy attracts children like grubby little magnets. He had marks all over his back from the kids in the pool. It was definitely heartwarming and ridiculously adorable, but seriously? If one more relative coos, "Oh, he's gonna be such a good daddy!" I will simply puke.

I want kids. In like, seven years. And right now, Mike and I get into an argument every single time we talk about our hypothetical future children. He's vegetarian. I'm a carnivore. I'm strongly religious. He doesn't believe in god. The list goes on. We both have strong opinions, and as a couple, our differences are what strenthen our relationship. Add a shared endeavor like a hypothetical future child, and it's a recipe for drama. Give us seven years and I'm sure we'll sort it out.

PS-- This is such the wrong icon for this post, but it makes me giggle. It's by evergleam83, and I luff it.