I've done all my work and now I am sad. All my photos pasted inside are crooked. And I've been in my room all day, sitting on the floor. My back wants to kill me. But working anywhere else in the apartment means Tim's hair would soon become a part of my project. And the sight of the dirty dishes would make me go ballistic--I was gone four days and Tim still didn't wash any dishes, I suspect mold...smells like it too.

I am ready to leave. Like, BYE BYE CALIFORNIA for two months kind of leave.

And, this is the last time I make a book that isn't a fucking rectangle. LESSON LEARNED.

June 20th cannot come sooner.