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August 29 Friday

Dad took us to the Chinese Buffet tonight. It was okay, if you don�t mind your sweet and sour chicken being cold and rubbery.

Jeremy actually acted like a normal child and mom seemed to be calmer too. I think having Dad at home helps her nerves. She doesn�t clean as often and when she does, its only twice instead of the four or five times it has progressed to lately.

She did wear gloves to dinner though. Little, white old lady gloves. When dad asked, �Molly, why are you wearing gloves to a Chinese buffet?� She abruptly replied, �My hands always get cold in the restaurant.�

Dad seemed to be satisfied with that answer, but I know better. She�s covering the Clorox burns on her hands. She cleans so often that they don�t have a chance to heal, so her skin is continuously raw. Dad mentioned that she should see a doctor about it, but she quickly changed the subject. I think he thinks it�s eczema or psoriasis or something. I love my dad, but he can be so blind sometimes.

Football season starts next Friday! I can�t wait for the weather to turn cool, so Amy, Sarah and I can huddle in the stands under a layer of blankets and cheer for our guys. Last year we were 8-4, and I think this year we will do even better.

They guys in our class seem to have grown two feet over the summer and their shoulders are getting broader. Yum. Dare I say they are starting to look like men? Too bad they still act like a bunch of idiots.

Our class is notorious for being the �bad� class and it seems this year will be no exception. Amy keeps me in the loop and cracks me up with her recollection of the day�s events.

Time moves so fast. Next year, I�ll be a Senior and then what? College, I guess. But why? Because I�m supposed to? It�s not even a question of what I want anymore, but what I have to do.

Too. Much. To. Process.

Need. Sleep.

I can always think about it later.



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