Yesterday I thought I had gained my footing but I guess I was wrong.
It seems that my Stylist had just taken away my Blanket of Dread to have it re-woven.
"Non, non, non," he admonished the flock of Korean seamstresses that create my wardrobe, "Zees veel defeeneetly NOT DO!"
"Vhy vould you make zees blanket out of only vone eemoshun? Zere are so many more eemoshuns vee can use. And FEEL zees, eet's too light! Eet's too airy. Quickly, feel zees vit ROCKS!"
And so today my blanket is a fine weave of dread, doubt, and self-loathing. And it's filled with rocks. So it's, like, suffocating.

I should get out and DO something, but I don't know what to do. It's been raining all day and it's humid. I'll only draw attention to myself if I go out and sulk in a puddle. But I've spent the whole day inside torturing myself. Even my short nap was filled with poisonous dreams that made no sense. I got in fights with two friends back home. I was so upset with one of them I shoved snow in her face. (Actually, that person had morphed seamlessly in my dream from Sarah to Stacey to Rosie O'Donnell to Tara, so it's like I was fighting with five friends, really. Though Ms. O'Donnell's not actually my friend.) I didn't even question why there was snow, even though it was July in my dream, we were at the beach, and she (they) was (were) wearing a bikini (bikinis.) There were little kids in my dreams. Siblings of my students. When they looked at me their eyes milked over and these big white polyps sprouted out of them. It was freaky. I woke up just as I was about to eat a snail.

And my blanket seems even heavier and more constricting.