like Goldilocks

ENTRY # 2569 I kept waking up and going back to bed until it was right. The first time was around 6 and who knows what monkeys were inhabiting my brain before I opened my eyes, but I woke up crying, Not the sobbing cathartic kind, just a quiet hopeless kind. The dog was concerned. I checked my computer for stories and to see if anything had changed – it hadnt.

Fuck this. Im going back to bed. And I did. Take two, an hour and a half later. Still no good. Moved to peeved. Minor improvement. Thought about Jennifer Anniston and how she just turned 40 and she seems nice and normal and is beautiful and (what little I know via the checkout stand titles) keeps trying. I write this elsewhere. I go back to bed. Take three. I bought a loaf of sourdough yesterday. It has a hard crust. It is calling my name. I think this is a good time to wake up. Food makes everything better. This is proof. I check my email, there is a comment from a stranger at the other place, “I hope it works out for you.” I can start the day with this.

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