I have developed a sickening distrust and disgust in humankind within the last week or so. This may have something to do with the coming and going of Mardi Gras.

I think I should use my tax refund to start seeing a psychiatrist or something. Funny thing is that I already know what my "cure" is but can't bring myself to ask for it. Not because I am afraid of being rejected, but because I know I don't have any place asking at this time. Could I be more cryptic? Yes, I could...

I guess the fact is that she's got a railroad to run. I'm busy with my own designs, but I've got no place to ask her to set her concerns aside for me. I've especially no business in developing expectations, which are as annoying as my upstairs neighbors. Who is John Galt?