Yes, I'm twelve years old.

I AM SO NOT SPEAKING TO MY DOG RIGHT NOW. Tonight I was taking a long relaxing bath, and I heard a sound from the next room and knew immediately that someone was doing something that they ought not. I wasn't sure who it was, though, or exactly what they were doing, so I just shouted for whoever it was to just stop. And then when the bath was over, I walked out into the bedroom and didn't really see anything wrong (apart from the unholy mess of folded laundry and books, but that is my fault and not the pets').

It didn't occur to me to check the living room, because I spent all afternoon cleaning it, and there wasn't anything to get into. Ah, but I was forgetting the fact that I shredded a full trash bag worth of old bills and bank statements tonight, and that the bag had been sitting patiently by the door, waiting for me to take Flan out at the end of the night. And when I walked into the living room and found it carpeted in shredded paper, let us just say that I was tremendously displeased. There wasn't even anything besides paper in the bag!

Anyway, I am not speaking to Flannery right now. It's just too bad that she doesn't really give a shit.

:::

I'm going on an Outing tomorrow that sort of played out like that word game where you start with one word, and by changing one letter over each of three steps, come out with a completely different word each time. It all started with my determination to go to Atlanta and finally visit the new IKEA store. I mentioned this to my parents, and they wanted to go along, so we made plans to go on Sunday afternoon. But then my father remembered that they're doing some serious interstate work this weekend, and traffic was going to be terrible, so why didn't we put off Atlanta for some other weekend and go to a nice brunch at this Ritz-Carlton resort instead? Well. I am all for brunches at the Ritz-Carlton, especially if I am not paying for them, and plus, when traffic is bad in Atlanta, IT IS REALLY FUCKING BAD, so I resigned myself to going to Atlanta another weekend.

But then my father found out that the Ritz-Carlton only serves breakfast anymore, so that was out. Instead, my parents decided to try and brave the Atlanta traffic after all to go to this Cajun restaurant there, but we can't go to IKEA after all because when they thought we were going to go to brunch, they invited two other people along, and so we couldn't really all trek over to IKEA after lunch.

To which I say, man, I wish I were just a little more the sort of person to say, Hey! Wait just a goddamned minute here! But as it is, I am going to Atlanta tomorrow, and no IKEA, no art-house movies, just food from my native land that by god had better be good.

QUIT IT. QUIT IT. QUIT IT.

Dear Universe,

First of all, it was nice of you to feel badly, after last night's bitchy post, that I wasn't going to be able to spend five dollars on a paper nautilus-shell lamp at IKEA today. Really, I'm kind of touched that you care. But I wish you hadn't sent my parents' friends' aunt to the hospital so that I could go, because that just kind of makes me feel like I'm some asshole with a secret monkey's paw that I don't know about that is just waiting for the chance to really fuck my life up BUT GOOD.

So. Well, thanks for that, kind of, and no thanks, too. Next time just ask, okay? Just say, "Cammy, would you rather look at really cheap goodlooking household items while feeling obscurely guilty and not a little paranoid, or keep your parents' friends happy and their relatives safe?" If, you know, it's not too much trouble.

Really, though, that's not the reason I'm writing; that's a minor consideration compared to the hell which you are putting me through as regards the 10-day forecasts on weather.com. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Did you think I wouldn't notice that every day I look at the forecast and it tells me that today will be 97 degrees with a heat index of 108 and it will still feel like 98 degrees at 10:00pm, and tomorrow will probably be that hot too, but after that, honestly, it's going to cool down to a respectable 88 or thereabouts, and life will be infinitely better after that. It says that every day. Every day the temperature drop is two days away, and it never gets any closer.

THAT IS NOT EVEN A LITTLE FUNNY, GODDAMN IT. QUIT TAUNTING ME, UNIVERSE, OR I WILL SUMMON MY MUZAK POWERS TO DESTROY YOU. I CAN DO IT, TOO. JUST ASK disdainty. SHE KNOWS.

Hope you have a good week.

Yours cordially,

Cammy