I’m on a plain, I can’t complain.

I woke up around 1 PM and rolled out of bed. I noted that I got around eleven hours of sleep.

I wasn’t in a Clifford mood last week. I decided I should visit him today. I walked into his house, dogs barking. I went down to his room and called out to him. Knocked. Openned the door. Hmmm. Went upstairs. Realized I was in his house, alone, and unannounced. Whoops. I left a note in his room about my presence, and walked out the door. Seems kind of inappropriate to just stay at somebody’s house if they don’t know you’re there.

Walking back to the van, I saw a van driving down the culdasac. (Don’t ask me to spell it.) It pulled into his driveway, and I saw him and Jess inside. I smiled at the timing.

He fed Jess and I cookies and Cheez-Its. I hesitated when he handed me the box. Paige used to eat those all the time. But I took the box in the spirit of breaking the association. No memories are going to keep me from something I can enjoy right now.

I went upstairs and played Star Wars Battlefront with his little brother. Time went quickly and it was after 5 PM. I left to come back here so we could go out to dinner. We went around the corner to Clay Oven, an Indian restaurant. I ordered the usual. The “usual” derived from what I had at Cloves on Cliff’s birthday, and this other Indian place I went to in Arlington with Paige.

Apparently, Chicken Tikka tastes the same no matter where you get it. I also had a Mango Lassi, which is well worth over the two dollars it costs. Goddamn. It is the perfect sweet drink to go with the spicy food.

Don’t ask me about Indian food. I’m biased against it due to what my Grandma used to feed me. I may be half Indian, but I have very little heritage in me. *snickers* Hell, my dad’s ashamed of being Indian. He doesn’t like going to Indian restaurants, out of fear that the people working there will try to talk to him. Odd character, he is. I’m glad we only go out once a week. Dad always bitches about prices. And, the most expensive the place is, the more he will bitch about the food. Meaning, he will praise places like Wendys and IHOP. Ugh. I’m so glad I’m not like that. If I want good food, goddamnit, I’ll pay for it.

I have a sudden craving for Popeye’s hot apple pies. Mmm. Whenever I’d go to the one down the street on Columbia Pike, they’d never have them out. So they’d make them right on the spot and DAMN, THEY’D BE HOT AND DELICIOUS. Pity there are no Popeyes in NJ. If there are, there aren’t any around here.

I still have Baby Got Back stuck in my head. I’ve been listening to it so much that I’ve been paying attention to the lyrics. Crazy, I know. I can already do a mean Rapper’s Delight, so it’s not much of a stretch of the imagination that I could memorize this, too. *giggles*

I’m coming up on two months of working at Panera. Time has just flown by. Much like that old guy told me, I can’t fall into autopilot. If I don’t bother to think about where I’m going now and then, suddenly it’ll be six months down the road and I won’t have progressed at all. I mean. It’s important to think about, now and then, what I want to do with myself. School, I mean. I do want to go back, I just don’t want to go back unless I have a plan in mind. This is the time I’ve needed to relax and sort it out without feeling rushed or pressured.

Yet my ideas of what I could be haven’t changed much. I could be bold and try my hand at anything. As long as I keep in mind that nothing is forever, I’ll be okay. A shrink. A massage therapist. A uhh. I haven’t had any new ideas in months. A job. Ah, that’s the question: what job do I want after this? Maybe it won’t even need schooling. Maybe.