Monday

I don't have much of my life planned out, but I know what kind of wedding cake I want: carrot cake with cream cheese icing.

Tonight, as I try to convince myself to go to sleep, I think about the rest of my life. I don't want to spend lonely days compulsively washing dishes. I think I'll have to marry someone who will cook and clean for me. That's probably too much to ask. I'll have to be rich and hire someone who will cook and clean for me. Would I worry about this if I didn't have ovaries? Men usually don't worry about ordering a salad. I remember he had a bagel with cream cheese, which was probably not nearly so organic as my salad. While we were talking about futures, I said something so dumb that he had to comment on it. Unfortunately, he had half a bagel in his mouth, so all I could do was laugh. I think it must be true love, because I'm always disgusted when my brother talks with his mouth full. I think about how ridiculous the whole situation is and burst into a silent fit of laughter. Eventually I am crying instead and all I feel is the heat of the tears behind my eyes.

When I go to sleep, I dream that I am eating carrot cake and spiders are crawling through my hair, biting my head.