I'm not just bothered by the main car-totaling experience—the actual crash, the tow-truck-crook, the bastardly Service King, the loss of freedom, the money...God, the money!—I'm peeved because my weight has been dropping. The car was part of what helped me acquire things that I actually want to eat, and, well, I've never had a good sense of regulation with food and it's consumption, anyways. Going out to see Will almost daily kept me in the habit of regular-ish eating.

I'm living off ice cream, whatever soda I bring back after being with Will, some hot fries from the school vending machines...I ate some smallish pickles today, and walked to Starbucks...ordered the wrong drink, but it was pretty good, so I just went with it. Had a piece of some kind of loaf thing they had. Once I got home, I munched on a wedge of cheese...I think I'll order pizza tomorrow—I've been thinking about pizza. Yeeezz, pizza...excellent.