Today my youngest sibling turns 18. That means all of the Cregan kids survived to majority. I'm vaguely amazed that we all made it, I was dead certain someone would have killed someone else by now.

My birthday is in less than a month. I am not ready for it, but I am never ready for it. And it's not like 26 is an important age. My next milestone is 30... and that's kind of disgusting to think about.

I have come to the determination over the past two nights that I actually don't mind sharing a bed, it's just sharing a twin sized bed that I hate. As long as the bed is big enough that I don't have to touch the other person, it's fine.

I have also come to the realization that I am a really bad kisser. I have no idea how to become a better one, though. There's got to be some kind of how-to on the internet... I don't even know.

Julia has another tattoo appointment at 4. This time our father is going with her. Apparently he wants to get his mother's portrait tattooed on him. I think that's a terrible idea, but whatever makes him happy, I'm not about to tell him he has to get a laughing Jesus or whatever he said he wanted as a tattoo back when I got my first one. Maybe it's just because I don't love my grandmother enough. I don't know. All I'm certain of is, I probably could have told my maternal grandmother I'm bisexual and she still would have loved me, if I told Vovoa, I'd be disowned. I can't say enough how relieved I am that we're not going to live with her or next to her after all.

Tomorrow I have to call in my prescription refills. This is my note-to-self. DON'T FORGET, STUPID. Then on Wednesday I have to go see Lisa.

I started reading Rant in the tub and got about a third of the way through it. I'm going to take it out to the hammock and finish it off tomorrow, probably. As long as it doesn't rain. Aside from that, all I'm reading is X-Men fanfiction, all day every day.