19 March 1995
Waiting until Friday. Today is Sunday, then it will be Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and then, Yahoo!
Yesterday morning I woke up in a fever of irritation. I could hear Nanette and her boyfriend in the kitchen, and felt–how dare they be there! And why must Nanette be using her espresso machine when I am ready to get out of bed and use it. And I thought how awful to have to spend your domestic life with people you don’t love. That’s not domestic life, it’s social life, and it’s just not very interesting.
But soon I will be in domestic bliss. I suppose someday I will wake up in a fever of irritation with Teresa, but I will scold myself into good will or at least into behaving well. This is my resolution.
I need more coffee. I’m afraid to work on my novel.
 Note added 2013—Update on domestic bliss. Teresa kept throwing up last night, and now she’s putting away all the dishes from my Pillsbury research project, which is starting to feel like an expensive chore. Guilt. Enzo just got done whining because I put his fort together incorrectly, and now he’s watching explosions on TV. I am late for work.