January 16, 1999.

This date has been itching at me. One of the most irritating things about my memory is that it often holds onto isolated details while losing the context. Take dates for example...I either forget the dates of important things or I remember a date without knowing why. I've already missed the anniversary of James Joyce's death and Epiphany. Then it hit me.

The Gulf War.

Big frigging deal. I can't believe I spent a full minute trying to figure that out. Yeah, at the time I wasn't sure if the conflict would escalate into Armageddon, but that's 8 years gone. Again: big frigging deal. I want those brain cells back, dammit.

The Boy has grown tired of wearing the same pants for going on three days in a row, and has taken himself home. It's probably for the best: we were doing some pretty weird things this afternoon, as my roommate was out. Our constant refrain was, 'wouldn't it be funny if she came home right now?' Not that we were doing anything lewd - far from it. But we had crab walk races (that backward crouch position), we exfoliated our respective faces with some stuff that my mom got me for Xmas, and at one point we were just lying on the floor in front of the bathroom, giggling & smacking each other with a baseball hat and a big piece of styrofoam.

If my roommate had walked in at that point, it would have been easier to pass it off as a weird sex thing...rather than truth: that we had unwittingly released the internal five year old.