This day sucked. In fact, this past month has sucked. I've been sick for literally 5 weeks now. The bronchitis that keeps on giving. Granted, it's a lot better, but I'm still coughing like a TB patient. I can't be my usual cheery self because I have coughing fits when I laugh. Bill Burr came to Pittsburgh and I couldn't go because I would've ruined his show with my sled dog sounding coughs. To make matters worse, I live in a mold infested house that is never cleaned and smells to high heaven like pot smoke. Oh, that's because it's full of pot smoke. My roommate smokes like he's auditioning to be in a Cheech & Chong remake of Up In Smoke. It fucking stinks. He's momentarily not here and it still smells like pot. It's not even good pot. I can tell by the smell. I've been around people who smoke good pot and this is light years away from that. There's no respite here for my lungs. I clean the hell out of this place. When I moved in, there was black mold everywhere. And here's my roommate, just hanging tough with it. Most of it just wiped right off with a sponge. Oscar the Grouch is probably cleaner.
My car sucks. My back window has inexplicably decided to fall down and not stay up. I've resorted to taping and gluing it. I still have the ongoing problem of it overheating. Now, my breaks are squeaking. It's a piece of shit. Fuck you, J.D. Byrider.
However, I have some good days with Viggo and usually one day a week with my boyfriend. We spend one night a week, drinking wine, eating cheese and snuggling like madmen. What would I do without him?