Yesterday...

I wrote a song after 6 months. I could tell my baby was happy, seemed like it was playing itself.

I was happy and then I was not.

The cat killed Mr. Beanbag and Mr. left sneaker. Pity mr beanbag, but mr left sneaker's demise means shopping. I hate shopping. I'm usually the pile of bags trailing behind the mother and the sister.

But I like shoes, so maybe I will go. And bags. And second hand books.

I like second hand books because they all have a different musty smell. It gives them a personality.

Suchi was right. The beach was theraputic. But it's so much more.

Sometimes, I shouldn't be allowed to talk to people. It's just a lot of self destruction and them destruction. Most of the time.

No matter how much I try, I can never be a cappuccino person. I will always be the expresso person, who puts too much of sugar for it to be anything else but liquid sugar.

And then it was today. I was happy again.

It comes in waves...