Slept like shit last night. Still awake at 3:30am. Tossed and turned. Alarm went off at 8am. Banana. Glass of milk. Shower and shave. Dress, trudge off to school.

Pissed off. Tired. Sick of school and Chico. Sit through the worst college class of my career: Adv. Composition for Teachers. Blah blah theory blah. Save the children, mulitple intelligences, crap crap blah. I don’t care. Sigh. Shut up. Please shut up. Stare at clock. Done.

Creekside Cafe. Grande coffee. Sit in the sun and look for my squirrel. One hour. Next class.

Religion of Islam. Fascinated, as always. Pay attention. Ask lots of questions. Pay very close attention and take fantastic notes. Flirt with the skater chick from Ventura. Is class over already?

Hungry. Thirsty. Ah fuck psychology, I hate that class. Think about how far behind I am in my classes already. Go home.

Package on doorstep. Hmmm? “Mon Frek, Daly City”. WOOT! I hope it’s cookies. COOKIES! Open door, leave open. Beeline for fridge. Reach waaayyy in the back where all the coldest beers live. Leave fridge door open too. 3 gulps. Crush, garbage, belch. Grab another.

Call Monica. THANKS. Only 3 more weeks? Excited? Scared? C-section? Shit. Yeah, I’ll drink a beer for you, hold on. Grab beer. Put phone next to beer tab. *PISH* Hear that? Listen. 3 gulps. Yeah, I’ll drink another for ya. Let me know when it plops out, OK? Love ya man.

Doors still open.