I'm such a clutz. I was entering the house after buying something yesterday. Somehow, after I opened the front door, I stuck my right foot behind it, on the outside. But, me being a clutz, I thought my body was free and clear of it. So when I force the door shut "behind" me, it actually hits my foot, which rebounds and hits me on the right side of my face. Ouch!

I can feel the pain all throughout my temple and my TMJ, which I had an injury from about a decade ago after snowboarding. It shook me so bad that I got a headache and had to lie down instead of writing and working outside in the garden.

Great; my TMJ's back.

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To shut My Father's fucking mouth about doing shit around the house, I chose to be passive-aggressive. I won't clean the furniture, but I will start to patch the bare spots of the front and back lawns with seed. And I didn't have to buy it, like I originally planned; Father bought a bag, so I used that.

My headache was better, and I wanted to lay down this seed/mulch/fertilizer combo before the rains came last night. So, without an hour to go before dinner, I went out and quickly separated this huge sponge of material in the bag and laid it down on this huge bare spot inbetween one of our trees and the deck.

It was a quarter to 5 when my parents came home, way early even for a Friday. My Father didn't see me at first when he went out to the propane stove in the back deck because I was just under him. When we locked eyes and he saw the blue-green mass of crap I was laying down, he got whiny and I got infuriated because he said, "You don't have to do that! We're going to put in a new deck!"

The fuck?! Why didn't you goddamn say that?? I now have all this shit on the ground and it's just going to be dug up over the summer??? Fuck you!!! And now I had no choice but to go find another bare spot in the backyard and dump the rest of it over there. I'm not going to just pick it all up and put it back in the bag. What a fucking waste. And all because he wouldn't tell me that he's putting a new deck in.

My Fucking Father yells at me to do something, and when I do do something, he yells at me to not do it. Pisses me off.

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Want to think Grandmother isn't going crazy, and she probably isn't, but when I don't want to talk about something, I think I make it abundantly clear.

She put this Chinese mentholated oil on my head when I banged it against the door. I was hoping that was the end of it. But during dinner she told my parents, "He banged his head against the door!"

At first I wanted to strangle her and the way she doesn't move her above her food and instead lets the food drop onto the table just under her placemat. But then I realized that I didn't want her to reveal that I banged my head against the door because my parents would then start to piss and moan about it, and me. If that's the case, who the fuck cares that I banged my head against the door? Still didn't want her to say it, but I calmed down a bit after that.

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One of the main reasons I hate working outside is that it gets so hot I forget stuff. Happens every time. And it happened last night when going out to the gym.

I took a long shit and I needed to exchange the thing I bought earlier today for something bigger, so after finishing in the bathroom I immediately put my Tevas on and headed for the flower shop and then the gym. I hesitated for a millisecond when I put my sandals on; this didn't seem right, and I knew I was missing something, but I didn't know what it was. But I did know I'll know what I was missing as soon as I miss it, if that makes any sense.

And that moment came when I headed to the lcokerroom of the gym; wearing my sandals meant that I didn't wear socks, and I need to wear socks to work out. Shit. I could've turned back but there was only two hours to work out, so I just put on my gym shoes without socks. I feel like I've defiled my relative pristine, non-smelly shoes because I stuck my bare feet in them. This is the first time I've ever worn these sneakers without socks. But on the bright side, I know that that's a fact I'll forget about very, very soon.

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I went to the coffeeshop after working out. After parking I opened up my trunk to get my bookbag and laptop ... and that's when I realized that not only did I forget socks, I also forgot to bring my bookbag and laptop. So now I can't spend the three hours I wanted to spend because I fucking forgot my computer?!?! Fuck me.

The only thing in my trunk that I could even read are these LSAT practice materials. I forgot that my sister was studying for the LSAT eons ago, and My Fucking Father was about to recycle every single book she used. When he ordered me to take them out to the driveway Wednesday, I took some and threw them in my trunk. I could go to law school, you know. And now it's the only thing I could occupy my time with.

So I brought those materials inside the coffeehouse. I wanted to stay there three hours; instead, after leafing through words and advice that made me think of my hours spent studying the SAT and ACT, I left after about half an hour.

The sun melted my brain, therefore my night ended prematurely.