My journal is lost. Lost.
I can't find it anywhere - not in my bedroom, or the living room, office, nor kitchen. It is not in my car or in T's. It isn't in his beach backpack or my beach purse.
This is aggravating. And terrifying.
It's not so much that anything in there isn't stuff that I'd pretty much share anyway, if asked about it, but having that clear and unfettered view into my innermost feelings and ramblings is something that, knowing that anyone who picks it up (whether or not they know me, depending on where the darned thing is) has instant access to, makes my skin crawl... (it's also why I have no, and I mean, no, self control when given the opportunity to read someone else's journal. It's disgusting. Remember that study where they gave kids candy, told them that if none of the candy was eaten by the time they returned the kids would get double, and and left the room to watch from behind a one-way mirror? And the kids would do all sorts of things to distract themselves, but often ended up eating the candy anyway? So me. Something about just being able to really, really see inside of someone else's head is irresistible to me. I'm despicable, I know.)
Not the least of my worries here is that with along with the M.I.A. journal is a library book that is overdue as of this morning. Argh! I hate returning library books late - it makes me feel sooooo irresponsible. Not to mention the fact that I'll have to pay late fees to the library, which makes me feel duuummmb. That'll be a cup of (decaf) coffee that I could have had...
So the search is on. If anyone finds a 2/3 filled black leather notebook that's moderately falling apart, holla.
Speaking of annoyances, here's today's quote (and an instant favorite of mine):
"Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much."