Yesterday I went to try and drive to the supermarket to see what they had, and when I turned the corner onto North Jerusalem, there one was. It looked older than any I had seen before--I mean that it looked like it had been a rev for longer, not that it was an old man. It was just standing in the middle of the road by the funeral home, where I'm assuming it had come from. I turned right around and called the squads, but I wasn't really all that scared. What was scarier to me than the thing itself was the fact that the squads must have MISSED it when they swept the area, and since I know how long it took them to work on that funeral home, they were either completely thorough and somehow this one slipped through anyway, or they were slipshod about it. I don't know which one I'd prefer to be true--I'd prefer neither to be true, really.

Still no produce at Stop & Shop, by the way, though I was able to grab a jar of applesauce that someone had stuck behind the soup cans. It was a little like how when I used to go shopping at Tower Records and I didn't have enough money for a certain album, but it was the last one in the store and I really wanted it, so I'd tuck it behind some completely unrelated artist's CDs so it would be there when I came back later in the week with enough money to finally buy it. Someone must have done this for this applesauce for whatever reason. Sorry.

Trying not to resent what this has all done to my sex life is very stressful. Stupid and stressful. But what can I say? It's been such a struggle ever since we got married and we were finally making some progress. Now she's not eating again. You can feel the weight of it on your neck, just pushing down.