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2001-05-22 | 7:58 a.m.

So mad at myself right now I want to spit. After all that rigmarole on Sunday, I forgot to take Felony to her dance lesson last night. Just forgot! No, it's even worse than that, because Duff left a message on the answering machine that said, "Oh, you're probably at ballet right now," and I actually thought, Jeez, he's all screwed up. I don't know what I was thinking. I know I was addled by driving my sister around on all her personal errands for two hours, in the tropical heat without so much as a magazine to comfort me (because she neglected to tell me in advance how many errands she intended to run, because she didn't want me to say no) all so I could get her to help me drive Duff's car down to the ferry building (yes, illegally, I know), so I wouldn't have to pile the kids in the car at 11 that night to pick him up after his LSAT class. Maybe I should just tell him (again) to take a fucking cab.

But that has got to be some serious brain mojo working against me. What do you call that? Autopassive aggression?

At least I did get my period yesterday, which helps explain Sunday's sturm und drang.

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