Slept in late. Saturday’s my day to eat all I want and Sunday’s my day to sleep all I want.

I hemmed a pair of pants for Tom and sewed some seams that were tearing in a pair of shorts of mine.

We went out and got blizzards from Dairy Queen in the early evening. This time I got a Reese’s Peanut Butter blizzard.

Mom’s daycare center closed, so we let them know that I would be willing to stay with her at home, full or part-time. I like the idea of looking out for her and working with only one person and one I get along with, but the hours are going to be a nightmare for me. Damn God to hell for making me nocturnal! You don’t know what a bitch it makes life when you’re a night person. Tom would have to take me on the way to work and pick me up afterward. I don’t like the idea of having to get up at 4:00 in the morning, though. That’d be really hard to adapt to. Actually, I’d never adapt to it. You can’t make a day person a night person, nor can you make a night person a day person. It’d always be hard on me. I don’t think they’re going to want me for the job, though, but we’ll see. I have mixed emotions about it. I want to do it for the extra money and because I’m sick of society bashing homemakers, but I wish it could be at night!

Later…

I’ve been totally lacking the energy and motivation to do things lately. I just wish I wasn’t nocturnal and so sleep-needy! I crashed around 4 AM and couldn’t drag myself out of bed till noon, and even then I was still tired. I ended up napping for nearly 4 hours, getting up at 7 PM. I said, “Fuck Scot, fuck the freeloaders!” I need to live my life for me and sleep when I need to. I can’t be stumbling around exhausted all week for these people who own and control my life in ways I never dreamed possible. At least I could sleep when we all lived together, though I did go to sleep stressing out over them.

Anyway, like I said, I lack the drive to do things. The only thing I’ve done consistently is work on my jailhouse book. Of course, I still take care of the animals. The day I lack the energy and motivation to feed them and to change their cages would be the day I’d stop having animals. I mean things like housecleaning, working out, etc. I’m way ahead on the bottle bullshit, but that’s about it. The loss of motivation towards working out is easy to explain, though. Knowing I can’t lose 15-20 pounds is what dampens my desire to work out, and knowing I couldn’t keep it off if I could, doesn’t help, either. I have to try to see it for what its only purpose could ever be – to keep my muscles stronger. Meanwhile, I’ll just never shed the outer layer of fat.