Today has taught me something very solid.

I slept for 12 hours, equating I woke up to a VERY good mood. I didn't think the day was going to get anywhere, but I didn't mind. As it turns out, I had a productive day looking at peoples' profiles, responding to a message, even downloading Gigi D'Agostino as I did so. I took photos and still anticipate more photos of the lillies outside. I looked in the mirror as I dressed and saw my figure was slendering. (I'm wearing pants I rarely wear due to my weight. I usually bulge from the top, so I don't wear them. I've lost enough now, though, that I can put my index finger in the waist and tug out with extra room.) I was laughing in my bedroom, alone in my house. The rain and stormy-looking sky outside only made me happier...

And then my mom came home. She called up the stairs to say hello, which was cute because I left a note on the stove saying to feel free to say hey. I went down to chat with her, told her about the pants I was wearing, and we grinned at my body shedding its unneeded fat. (She likes it because I wear nicer clothes when I'm slender, and thus look less like a tomboy.)

And then I decided to eat. I settled on TunaHelper, and read the directions, thinking 20 minutes was a while to cook, but nothing outlandish. I figured I could have leftovers for breaks at work. I looked for the pan I'd need for cooking--which was used and dirty. I didn't want to clean it, because I knew I'd feel pressured to clean the rest of the dishes too. (I hate washing dishes. >.<) So then I asked my mom if using a deeper pan would be okay since the 11" pan was unwashed. She looked up at me from her coupon magazine and gave this skeptical look. In a tone that spelled out that I wasn't thinking, she said, "Just take some soap, swish it around, and take a rag to it."

"But there's stuff in it," I said kind of perplexed. I didn't like the tone. (Stuff=Some water with food particles and grease. I'd notice later that more grease was in the pan than I realized at first glance.)

"It's nonstick. It'll be fine. Don't scratch it though."

I walked away, aggravated. "That's the least of my worries," I muttered. My mom loves her pans, so I hoped that last comment would tip her off a little.

Her voice had that "Duh. Where's your brain at?" tone in it. Can I express how angering that tone is, even moreso when it's directed at me? I wanted to put the TunaHelper away and not even make it. I was frustrated with the whole idea of messing with pans. I wanted to swear and flip her off, but I knew I needed to eat. Because I'm in the self-loathing phase of my mood cycle, I didn't do anything but clean the dish grudgingly and said "feck it" when I was done. (Had I been in my arrogant or angry phase, I would have swore at her, gone onto saying something scathing, pushed some dishes over, and left out the cups, can of tuna, and box. Sounds immature, but it gets conversation started, whereas when I'm in this phase, nothing is said, thus the resentment just grows.)

So, summing up the day-->Woke up very happy, Had a very happy day, Mom came home, Spring ends up pissed at being talked to like an idiot, even if she could have somehow deserved it.

So I'd like to announce a discovery. I love my family members. Love them very much, in fact. But when they come home, I can get very upset. I can sometimes hate them. I can wish they never came home, wish they stayed wherever they were before they came here. I like being alone, because I can be happy. I don't give a [shoe] about what they think, except for when I occasionally imagine Micah's reaction to something funny I found online, which only makes me happier. Some people would say it's a backwards "love-hate" relationship. I love them when they're away, but hate them when they're here. Who bothers me the least? Micah.

In general, though, I like it when people stay out of my way.