Thursday, January 20, 2005


When I do the dishes my head begins to itch. I get the sweats. And when the dishes clash together or fall over because they're stacked wrong I want to smash my own face off the sink. I normally settle for spitting on the floor after clamping my eyes shut and howling like an animal.

If the hoover flips over when I'm dragging it across the room I normally kick it, hoping to break a toe. And when I try to pick something up that's too large for the hoover to suck up and miss with three or four quick grabs I leave it and go to snarl at myself in the bathroom mirror. Tears of frustration stinging where I clawed at my own incompetent face.