Yesterday was the anniversary of my dad’s death. I can’t believe it’s been four years. It still feels so recent, yet I find myself struggling to remember the sound of his voice, or to immediately recall the details of his face. I think about him every minute of the day and I doubt that will ever change. I guess this is what it is to really, truly, hopelessly miss someone.
I reeeeally want to get a massage this week because my shoulders are crazy tense from weeks spent hunched over desks but:
a) I’m poor because I impulsively spent loads of money on bikinis for reasons I can’t understand and
b) I’m so incredibly tired that I’ll fall asleep and I don’t want my massage therapist to have to try wake me up and deal with my sleepy wrath.
If there was ever a first world problem, this is it.