seriously, i give up

I killed four bugs today before I even left the house, one of which was a moth which I'm sure was eating my effing sweaters before its untimely death, and one of which was a little tiny black thing that was crawling on my arm and which made me go (mentally), "OMG! What is it? What if it's a bedbug?!!?" despite the fact that I was not in bed, it was daylight, and it was not attempting to bite me. I feel like I am teetering on the verge of another bad anxiety period. But maybe it's just PMS. One never knows. (But if you think that thing was in fact a bedbug, please do not write and tell me so. Thanks! You're swell!)

So then I left for work, missed my bus, walked down to the bus stop where all the people want to talk to me to wait for the next one, and yes, spent twenty minutes with this kid who would not shut up, insisted that he knew me, insisted that I must have used to work at Marshalls, asked intrusive personal questions, told me he realized he was asking intrusive personal questions *and* that he was talking way too much, wanted me to pretend to the bus driver that I was his wife... It was fucking exhausting. And I'm pretty sure the reason he thinks he knows me is that he used to be my patient when he was a little kid. He told me how old he is, and the age is right for the person I am thinking of, as are certain of his physical characteristics, but he introduced himself by a different first name than the one I knew him by. On the other hand, the first name I knew him by (with the same first initial) was quite "ethnic" and maybe he just wants to go by something less unusual. In any case, it was exhausting. Did I mention that? Even when D was manic, he wasn't manic "at you" like that.

In any case, you would think I would have learned my lesson by now: don't walk down there, and put your damn earbuds in. I am really sick of people, by which I mean men, not giving me my own little personal space bubble in public. All of yous: I don't want to talk to you, and just because I'm a girl doesn't mean you have a right to talk at me. (I'ma make an exception for probably-convict-Perry, though. He was amusing and charming.) But this has been happening way too much lately. I gotta practice my "just fuck off" face in front of the mirror, because I'm apparently looking too approachable of late.

I'm done bitching!

xoxo