Bitching
Tuesday, Jul. 13, 2004, 8:25 a.m.

At work...it's pouring rain outside, I can't even believe I'm able to be on-line.

I'm so sick of everything, and everybody. I cannot wait until I am stable and secure enough, look at Chris and say, hey, let's take off -- let's move to Vermont. There is nothing here for me. Sure, my family, but in 10, 15 years who cares? But then there's Baby to think of, I can't pull her away from all her friends.

But the likelihood of this happening is nilch, so why bother talking about it.

I just wish everything was perfect. And it will be. You just have to work for it. Things don't just fall into your lap. You have to work your ass off for those last few years of doing whatever the hell you want.

The date is set, officially, for Feb. 26th. I can't wait. That's definitly the date. The deposits have all been made. I don't want to sound like a bitch, but I hope no one shows up, I really mean that. My whole reason on going away to the mountains is to get the hell away from everyone. If more than 20 people show up, it's going to be this huge hullabaloo that I don't want.

This is supposed to be about C and I, not everyone else having a great party.

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