Making a mountain out of a molehill, perhaps, but sorry, I'm fucking tired
Saturday, Feb. 16, 2002 - 11:15

When you're woken up at 5 in the morning four hours after you went to bed after a long tiring week and you're prevented from going back to sleep by the person on the other side of the bed, you will more than likely get a little mad and start feeling sorry for yourself.

These are some of the thoughts I was thinking six hours ago:

Smells wake me up. Skunk smells, pancakes, huge farts, or extremely stinky breath.

Mr. Pooh is extremely fond of foods containing garlic and onions.

Garlic and onions make stinky breath. Brushing your teeth or using mouthwash won't get rid of the smell. I'm not sure Mr. Pooh knows this.

Mr. Pooh is extremely sensitive about what he sees as personal insults. If I say to him "You have stinky breath" he hears "I hate you". If I say to him "I had to sleep on the couch because of your stinky breath" he hears "I had to sleep on the couch because I hate you".

Last night Mr. Pooh had a nother gas attack - not as bad as that monster fart, but of the same type - AND he had stinky breath. What am I supposed to do? If I tell him why I had to move to the couch, he'll get pissed off. So instead, when he asked me why this morning, I took the fifth.

I'm trapped, with no way to win. To sleep, or to keep the peace? Paula Cole lyrics were running through my head. "Where is my happy ending?"