I lost a fish tonight, my beloved Franklin. He was an awesome fish -- way cool and way fun, my albino cory. My tank is on its way out. These fish deserve better than me, but they're old and fading fast. I'm down to two now. In some sick, sad way ... well, I can't finish that sentence right now.
Anyway, a friend really helped me through the removing-the-dead-fish-from-the-tank process. I have an irrational fear (is all fear irrational?) of dead things. I very nearly had a panic attack at the thought of getting this biggest-ever dead fish out of the tank. Thought I physically couldn't, nearly called someone else to do it, got crazy mad at myself for that, ultimately forced myself to do it to prove a point. I was definitely shaking but surprisingly not crying. I very nearly called my momtastic, but she'd probably have rushed over here in the rain because I'm her baby, and she does that sort of thing. Well, learan talked me through it, and she deserves hugs and candy; send her some! Thanks, lady.
I've had a couple glasses of wine. I NEED to sleep tonight, and I'm allowing myself a night of indulgent upset-ness-osity-itude. I also had Arby's, and I feel like I might burst. Nevertheless, damn! Their reubens are GOOD.
All right, kids. Time for bed. Have a lovely evening and a pleasant tomorrow.