The animal hospital called tonight. Pete's 'cremains' are there and ready to be picked up. At my convienence.

Oh. Thanks.

And they sent a sympathy card yesterday. Signed by the staff.

Rip my heart open again, why don't you.

It's a nice gesture, but still it hurts.

But then again, it still hurts when I see my Dad's Pitt sweatshirt in the drawer. Or when I see his handwriting on a note on my fridge.

I'm tired of hurting.

I'm tired of being bored too. That's another thing that is bothering me. I'm bored. At work, I do my job, but I'm bored. I come home, and I'm surrounded by all my art supplies, I could make nearly anything I want, but I'm bored. I get online, surf around, and I'm bored. Some of the bloggers I read regularly are boring me. Some of the forums I visit really bore me. I don't quite know what to do with all this.

Hurt and bored. That's no way to go thru life.