Freytag

The good part is that Cal's dentist's visit went wonderfully; he acted like a total adult, bloomed when I told him how proud I was, skipped home and signed onto his afternoon drama course. I was tired as hell, so I lay down and fell into a nest of nightmares for three hours, trusting Steve to look after him. The bad part is that at some point during that time-period, he apparently (probably accidentally) exposed himself to the rest of the class while adjusting his pants in front of the camera, which meant his teacher immediately turned his camera off for the last thirty minutes and then didn't write to us about it until later that night, when Cal barely remembered what had happened. Always fucking something.

Anyhow. Now he's acting like he's never going to get up again, let alone sign back onto his drama course. And Steve is lying in bed, awake but not up, while I drink the last of our coffee and compose this, listening to an old playlist I've labelled "Bad Romance." I was tired before; I'm super-tired now. Freytag.