I'm soooo down I can hardly breathe. DPITA must've gotten The Letter by now. No communication, of course. I don't miss my ring at all. I feel like a social clutz. I just got home at 8 pm, but I'm too exhausted and lonely to sleep. I need a haircut. I burnt the roof of my mouth on my baked potato.

I just want to be through this crap so I can go on my bumbling inept way, auditioning the gorgeous hottie for the next Ms. Knot and riding my bike in some centuries.

I want to get a phone call "Ok. Call it good. Slate is clean. Bye." I'm just really scared she's gonna put me through the wringer and I'll waver.

Weak moment! And I have no chocolate to bolster my soul!

(but I do have bike-chain tattoos that Doc did)