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Hey girlies! We made it to February. Since January chafed my tired ass so hard I’m renaming February to “Fabruary.” Surely we can all channel a bit of fabulousness this month. Plus we get an extra day to lout about on painkillers and porn.

The volcanic eruption noted earlier as an infected molar remains in my head. I made an appointment with my dentist and as predicted the fractured molar is coming out later this month. I am beyond dreading the appointment but as a card carrying adult it is the responsible thing to do. Crunching antibiotics like TicTacs is not a good thing.

While I pray the appointment goes well (like, literally not dying in the oral surgeon’s chair) I’m somewhat hopeful that having my mouth on the mend will facilitate a smidge of a weight loss. So there’s a sunny outcome.

I attempted ‘dry January’ but what with the toothache misery abyss my nightly chardonnay provided some bit of release from the throes of a pulsing molar. Add in a Xanax and 800mg ibuprofen and I talked to roaming spirits. You’re aunt says “hello” and that you should be ashamed with how you handle that Sky Mall neck massager. Yeah, the one shaped like a cock. But I digress.

I am, however—moving forward with “dry February.” So far so good. The wine just isn’t a benefit right now; I’m overweight as it is. That chilled chardonnay is empty calories and making my face puffy. Much like a good spring cleaning I want to get my house in order.

Speaking of ‘house’—-my landlady phoned midweek; she never calls. She didn’t leave a message so I returned the call and left her a message. No returned call yet which naturally has my imagination running rampant. A neighbor who also rents a condo here stated that her landlord was raising her rent as the building’s homeowner’s fees are increasing bigly. Fuck. I’m managing okay but really don’t want an increase; besides—this place is stuck in the eighties. Any rent increase will mandate my request for an all new kitchen upgrade.

Or…should there be an increase—perhaps that is the divine sign I need to pack up this glamboree and seek better/different surroundings. It is no secret: I’ve been living at the proverbial “fork in the road” for years. Unclear and uncertain of next steps or new steps lest they be missteps.