My new-found love of knitting has been the greatest awakening in my life since realizing I was a fucking lesbian. And I now feel like I was born to do nothing but knit and all I think about all day long are sweaters and bags and scarves and hats and mittens and afghans and everything else that could possibly be knit. And I want everyone else around me to start knitting too so that I can share my yarn-based passion. Yes, I'm obsessed, but I'm okay with it. And Grandma would be proud.

I've also fallen madly in love with a puppy that I saw today when I was downtown with Joseph. It was a chocolate-brown cocker spaniel and he was all cramped up in a tiny little cage in front of the window and he just looked so sad and lonely and all I wanted to do was stuff him in my coat and take him home and love him forever. But I resisted because I know that my mom would be skeptical of the prospect of having a dog in our house again, especially since I was the one who asked for our last dog and then never bothered to help take care of him. But I asked for the dog when I was thirteen and stupid and so I think I'm exempt from that and the dog was a fucking idiot so there was never any sort of bonding that took place there. And he was too big to put a sweater on so he just wasn't that cute. But I'd be paying for this dog so I'd definitely be more invested and I'm only going to be living at home for one more semester anyway. So I've decided that when I go downtown to have my tattoo touched up on Friday, if the puppy is still there, I'm going to try and get it. If not, I'll just be sad and start looking for a different one in the spring. But he was so adorable he made me stupid and I want him to be my baby.

Cross your fucking fingers.

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