I don't feel all that good today.

I say that having just wolfed down a Wendy's Bacon Mushroom Melt. That's sure to make me feel oh so much better, right?

It could be the heat. I didn't sleep well last night at all. My bedroom must have stayed at about 90 degrees all night, despite the huge fan blowing on me.

Or it might be the strange bug of some sort that bit the hell out of my lower back this weekend. That's what I think it is. I think I feel crappy because I have some kind of poison bug venom shooting through my system. You should see this. I have six huge bright red welts, all in a little line on my lower back, decending from the belt line down to where my tatoo is on my upper butt cheek (yeah, I know, too much information ....) They're not like any other bug bites I've ever had. There hard and very red and itchy, but nothing like a mosquito bite, or a fly bite. Those I've had before. This looks more like some kind of spider was trying to make a meal out of me or something. Gross. I HATE bugs.

Due to my itchy spotted back, and my general hatred of bugs this morning, I did a kind of rotten thing. There was this wasp flying around in my bathroom when I was trying to get ready for work. Now, I really don't like bugs, and I especially don't like flying bugs, and I especially especially don't like wasps. But I don't like killing bugs either, so I usually try to catch them and throw them back outside. So I caught this wasp in a jar, slapped the lid on and carried it out to the deck, intending to throw the jar and the bug into the back yard as I usually do. But I looked at this nasty wasp buzzing around in the jar and I thought "shit, he's all pissed off now, he's just going to try to get back into the house to sting me" and I just left him there, in the little jar with the lid shut tight, on the railing of the deck with the hot sun beating down. I'm guessing he'll be pretty dead by the time I get home.

Now I feel bad. This is how mass murderes get started isn't it? Did Jeffrey Dalmer start by pulling the wings off bugs or something.

I hate bugs, but that's no excuse for torturing them to death is it?

It's the venom in my bloodstream.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I was thinking about going up to the band practice tonight. Even after my little tirade on Saturday. I'm such an idiot. Trev came by today to pick up a script and he asked me if I was coming by tonight, and said Shari would be home an would probably want to hang with me, and I thought "It's likely to be the only time I see R this week", and so, despite telling myself I wasn't going to go hang around their band practices any more, I told Trev "yeah, I'll probably be up later on". WEAK.

And then, low and behold, R calls me. Out of the blue. About 20 minutes later. And asks me (completely of his own accord, no attempt at planning this on my part) if I want to go out for drinks with him tomorrow night. Suprise suprise. He hardly ever calls me and asks me to so something on his own initiative. He must have sensed the "I'm getting pissed off again" vibrations I was sending out into the universe.

Anyhow, not I can stay home tonight and not hang around band practice as I initially planned. Which is much better, cause I'd really rather hang out on the sofa, in front of the fan, watch TV and nurse by bug-bitten back.

I'm hoping Shanny might come over for a bit, as I have a DVD of episodes of Ab Fab that I've never seen before. (Season Five - Saffy has a baby ... how did I miss these episodes??)

Well, back to work. Entering a million addresses for a mail out. How fun for me. See theatre isn't all glamour, and being the boss isn't all fun. I still have to do lots of shit work.