April 04, 2004 - 1:03 p.m.

Why am I so stupid.

Ex-boyfriend Matt is spending the night at my house tonight.

But he'll be in Dan's bed, NOT mine.

I have a boyfriend, and I love him.

Even though Dave has not shown any desire to get together with me in almost a month.

Matt is just going through a really hard time now with the breakup of his girlfriend and the realization his four year military career is over and he has to move in with his sister.

We can drink tons of wine and talk about the good old days.

And really, his stopping here is practical, as is halfway point between his sister's place (where he is moving into) and his old apartment in Maine (that he is moving out of). And Dan will be going back with him to Maine to help clean up the place and move the last of Matt's stuff out.

It's not like we will be unchaperoned this evening. Rod will be home.

I am not the same person I was years ago and no longer find Matt's immature constant drunken personality attractive. I only drink socially now, anyway.

I love Dave.

Who am I trying to convince here?

Matt was a terrible, cheating boyfriend. Never again will I put myself in a position like that. I spent most of my early twenties drunk and depressed because of him.

In fact, there is a Lamya song that reminds me of the experience.

"Well, thats my life that you're throwing down the back of your throat, and those are my dreams heading for an overdose." "I let you booze away the best of my tender years..."

Matt was a great friend, and that's it. We are rebuilding our friendship.

Liz moved out yesterday! Must thoroughly douche the bathroom, kitchen, and living room. She made quite a mess before she departed.

I bought a book yesterday at the mall. I have read great things about the author, Sophie Kinsella, so I now have the first book in her little series. It's called "Confessions of a Shopaholic" and I absolutely adore it. I have read almost the whole thing. So far, I highly recommend it to anyone with a sense of humor slightly inclined to putting self in debt. It's like Bridget Jones is my age and has an obession with clothing instead of dieting. The Brittish are so funny.

My belly button wound got infected yesterday. It was gross, I shall not describe it further. Thank goodness for bacitracin and large waterproof Band-Aids.

I'll just have one more cigarette and then start cleaning the bathroom.

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