The Great Depression

Dear Blogairy,
I'm not sure what I want to write here. I'm not planning on telling anyone about this blog. You'll just be my secret for now. I have nothing of any interest to say anyway.
SB and I have been Married for one month today. I woke him up to kiss him good night and I said "Happy Anniversary", and he didn't say anything. Typical SB.
I'm sort of glad I had to work tonight. It broke me out of the lazy-immobile funk I've been in for the last 48 hours. I should still be studying since I'm awake, but I'm too burned out.
JS wrote me sort of long weird letter about how he misses me. It's the first real contact he's made with me for more than a year. It almost sounded like something an AA member would write to someone he felt he wronged, but wasn't sure exactly what he'd done. Anyway, it was nice to know that I mean enough to him to get a weird AA letter. It makes my heart feel warm.
JB called me this morning at 7:30am to tell me she called into work. I didn't answer, but felt compelled to call her back. I was sure she was stuck in a ditch bleeding somewhere. She just wanted props for calling in. I handed them out. She should call in more often. What's the use of building up all that trust as a great worker if you can't abuse it sometime.
I'm excited about the prospect of our country being in a recession. I know it's horrible, and in reality I would probably just die if the economy collapsed. Still, the anarchist in me wants something big to happen. I need a creative outlet. I need explosions and passion and blood and paint. I want to live on a farm in a Yukon territory and starve half the year. I want to plot and assassinate. Ahhhh. I can't even find the time to take an art class. Who am I to be saying this anyway?