I'm feeling vaguely depressed. I'm supposed to be packing and getting ready to move out and I just want to crawl into bed. I'm faced with the how to tell him moment. I've decided to wait until Sunday after he gets out of work. That way he has two days to mope or be pissed off and find a ride or fix his goddamn car that I have been trying to get him to fix for a month now. But I'm not bitter. I should call my friend but I just want to take a nap or maybe watch my tape of Angel I should at least finish my laundry and pack away my winter clothes-innocuous enough. Call Bessie and see what she’s doing. Something other than moping at the computer. On an up note I went to the new Taco Loco. Not bad, the sopapilla w/ice cream was pretty damn good. Prices aren’t too bad either. Terrible isn’t it how I can comfort my self with food. Maybe if I turned on the lights I’d feel peppier. But I kind of like sitting here morosely in the dark. It’s not that I have mixed feelings about leaving. I know it’s the right thing. I just feel terrible about what the repercussions are going to be. I hate to do it this way (surprise) but I think he will react very badly no matter what and I’m not in the mood to have my stuff fucked with or to be on the receiving end of his hateful vitriol. Which believe you me I have been on the receiving end of far too many times. Nothing beats someone telling you how stupid or clumsy or fat you are and then just when you start to cry says, “I’d hate to see you if I really went off on you” I’m getting all stressed out just writing this so I’d better quit. If I didn’t have to work tomorrow I’d go out and drink way the fuck too much but I’ll do it Saturday. Maybe I’ll get my shit together by then and move the fuck out on Saturday and just tell him he needs to find his own goddamn ride to work on Sunday. I’m just afraid he won’t go and get fired as a result and then try to blame me. Sigh. Well I should get moving. More later on my sitch.