Blackout

I can't believe how I just forgot things on Sunday. I forgot that I started crying on the 21 on the way home from downtown, wearing my super boots and feeling sorry for myself. I forgot that I called the Fridge and he was drunk and stupid, my least favorite combo. I forgot that I sat on the cushion-less couch in the cold, pawing at Mister until cold was too cold. Later, I forgot that I had been face-attacked (molested doesn't sound right).