Lilo spent most of the night vomiting.

I changed her sheets three times, finally opting for a large towel as her bed sheet and another to keep her warm, but she seemed fine after that third time. I bathed her after the first incident, then used the bathwater to immerse two sheets, two comforters and a plethora of waterproof sheets...all smeared with bile, broccoli and fish.

That mess's still waiting to be taken care of in the bathroom, but I'm procrastinating.

As usual.

I wasted this whole summer to anxiety, depression and isolation. I've just realized that I have gained some weight in the past two months. It might sound vain....but a lack of physical hygiene I can tolerate. Slacking off on laundry is a common occurrence. Crying myself to sleep has been a lifelong habit. Isolation seems logical when you take in account the fact that I have no desire to deal with the typical moms around Calgary, nor do I want to deal with the fact that it's incredibly hard meshing with people my age. That and I just seem to have more fun having a smoke, talking to myself and listening to great music.

But gaining weight?

Hell to the no! Ring the alarm. It's time to stop the emotional degragation! That's just going too far!

Realizing that I was packing on the pounds again gave me the inspiration to do the dishes for the first time in about a week. I breathed, sighed, lit up and allowed myself to slowly let life and a glimmer of hope creep back in my thoughts. Elvis was highly excited for some reason, pouncing and sprinting across the room, on the patio, back in the apartment, her head darting about, a highly alert look on her face as she dodged invisible enemies. It was a bit spooky.

Yesterday night found me wearing my favorite cardie, my fuzzy-cozy Born boots (I somewhat appreciate my mum's desperate attempts to inject some style in my life by buying me three hundred dollar pairs of shoes) and a blanket. I was sitting on the arm of my couch, leaning against the railing on my patio, starring adoringly at the full moon and we conversed...well, I talked to much, as usual. She just listened.

I've always looked forward to full moons, since I was a little girl. Might have something to do with the Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon obsession I developed at the age of nine, or the fact that I went on to fully believe that if I left my crescent pendant on the window sill every night, it would eventually collect enough moon-ray power to illicit a transformation in me. I lost that pendant playing in the snow one afternoon with the YES gals.

YES Gals: Yolande, Erika, Sasha...my childhood trio, my own personal book club, the closest friends I've ever had.

Except-Sasha ended up moving, and Erika and I, former enemies, became a Ying-Yang duo.

But eventually I took off to Canada. And here I am...all alone, filled with nostalgia and a bone aching weariness. I'm going to ignore the mess in the toilet, do a rudimentary wash up (armpits, face, teeth) and take Lilo out for a long walk. Burning calories is a top priority right now. Getting some fresh air? Always a bonus.

Clearing my thoughts is a must. When I return, I have a tale to tell you. Another tale showcasing my stupid, stupid naivety. And as expected, it involves a penis.