funeral blues

recently, a terrifying baby-fist-sized wasp and i were peacefully cohabiting for a few days. i was okay with it because it kindly limited its range of influence to my living room curtains. i hate killing bugs (they really do very little to bother me, except ants, which i tend to see as actively trying to ruin my life). but... when it appeared in my bedroom i had a sincere moment of panic and KILLED IT while kind of yelling "I'M SORRY." my problem is that when i was searching for the murder weapon, i considered my copy of how to cook everything vegetarian (but landed on a shoe), but now every time i look at the cookbook my trauma reemerges.

the ultimate point of this story is: what should i make for other people to eat at a potluck? i have a difficult time with these things, especially when my brain is really insistent about there being wasp guts on my favorite cookbook.

today feels like a bummer because i guess my body has suddenly become sensitive to pollen -- the counts are astronomical, so i can't blame myself, but i feel a tiny bit dead inside. also, josie is beautiful and she is great, but last night she was being the worst kind of asshole and waking me up every half hour by running laps around my bed. she usually has the sleep schedule of a normal adult human, so i was worried she was sick or something, but her totally normal behavior this morning led me to believe that truly, she just hates me. i feel like an allergy zombie and she did not even barf to make me feel okay about it.

but i guess it is ok because she is indeed the cutest dog alive

the job i do every day is, in theory, very simple and seamless, but these problems keep mysteriously happening with only the things in french that have nothing to do with them being in french. oh, my god, the french, give it a rest already