It's 8:59 in the AM. The baby is laying on the 'psydo-babysitter,' which is this green mat type thing with an arch above it with some fucked up looking toys hanging from it. Keep the little bugger entertained for, well, hours sometimes. He's laying there and I am here, eating cheesecake for breakfast.

What kind of mind-state must someone be in to have cheese cake for breakfast? It's the Sara Lee varity, chocolate chip and I'm not even using a plate. I am eating the damn thing directly from the tin foil pie plate it was baked in. It's sweet, verging on almost too sweet. You know, the too sweet something like cheesecake gets when it's bad cheesecake. This isn't bad, yet. It's mediocare.

When I think about life decisions and things that have moved past me without much of my input, when I get sentemintail about my grudges, I eat cheesecake for breakfast. I didn't want to touch the yogurt. It's healthier. I did contemplate it, but the fact that it's stamped so dark with the expiry date of JAN 30 made the cheesecake an ever eaiser decision.

I've written about my grudges before, the way I don't tend to keep them around for long but there is one or two that seem to stick like glue. Some are actions, some are a collective of actions. I'm sure that the small ones I am still harboring will fade away with time, infact I know they will. I can see a glimer of hope in that, but there are ones that will never go away.

I'm tired and the baby is sleeping. I can't concentrate on grudges anymore. The cheesecake is done and so am I.