i went to put away the pamphlets, only to learn that the three hole punch didn't work any more. so i threw it away. one less thing to clutter up my office/studio space.
i have thirty three dollars to spend at the thrift store. doc needs jeans and a couple of shirts. i want a hat, i won't be sure what kind of hat until i see it. i want a straw cowboy hat, but i doubt they will have one. so i have a few others in mind that they might have. and i need a pair of jeans. i lost weight in rehab and my new jeans are falling off me. they had some mustard yellow jeans, but they were 38s and i'm not that far yet. an inch at a time and i have a few inches. i'll look for 40s this time. and hope they have a pair that fit on me. i may even get a pair of black jeans.
i'm just all excited to be going out, and i like thrift store shopping. and when i get home, M will be with me, no more alone.
i'm listening to cable music, which rocks. i even liked the shalimar song they played. now it's 99 luftballoons, in german. i want to get up and dance, but my muscles and joints hurt. i'm assuming it's from the horrid beds at rehab. as well as the workouts.
i've noticed since beating up the heavy bag at rehab, i'm not that in hate with my dad. i'm still not in the forgiving mood, but i don't seem as angry when i think about him, i just feel pity for him and my mom. they have had hard lives and those lives will likely get worse before they end. pathetic, really. and i'm glad and grateful that i won't be a part of that. and that is what matters. i have no amends to make to them, the drugs i took while living at home made me a more tolerant of their insanity. when i get to the step of making amends it's going to be the hardest step to work. i don't know who i hurt. it was 20 years of drinking and drugging. i don't remember most of the people i met during that time. i have time to work on that, i'm only on step one.