Guilt

I don't even know what 'on the list' means, so I'm going to write about the debacle that was my morning. I can't believe I was almost late on the morning I had to bring breakfast; I woke up at 6:44 because I crashed at 10:30 last night. I felt very leisurely and ahead of time. I lounged around, read a bit more of Practicing Poetry--just generally enjoying myself. As the time to leave grew nearer, I called Robby and asked him to run by Publix and pick up some donuts for breakfast. He acquiesed, and I put on my makeup in perfect calm. Before he even reached my apartment, I was outdoors waiting for him. I hopped into his car and went through the goodies. He'd bought two boxes of 15 donuts. MINI donuts. "This isn't enough," I said incredulously, "why didn't you get another box?" "You said 30 was fine." "Yes, for REGULAR sized donuts it's fine, you buffoon!" After a heated debate (read: yelling match), we were off to Publix, where I bought another box and cursed the time, bringing them for a crowd of people who have barely touched them.

YOU PEOPLE. YOU ARE THE SOURCE OF MY ANGER. YOU EAT THOSE DAMN DONUTS OR IT WILL GO BADLY FOR YOU.

Okay, now I feel better. You can't feel guilty forever. But I do wish you'd eat the damn donuts.