September 3, 2004
I'm not sure who put them there, but the fridge had two bushels. No doubt Manolo had plans for them, but I couldn't resist. I took a few from the fridge and then a few more. I tried to concentrate on the paper, but I decided to go back for one last trip. As I reached for the fridge door, my fingers slipped from the handle. I looked down and saw my fingers were stained and slicked with blue. Those blahs again. I don't know if that works on a metaphorical level or what. Well that was two hours ago, Diary and I haven't gotten a damn thing done since. I'm waiting for a call from Scotty G.