This is why I like my typewriter.

Dear Fleur.
I was determined to be totally and utterly happy all day today. And I did pretty good. I went to Church. I thought about Timothy in the Bible(more on him later). I didn't get upset when we were locked out of the house. I made valentines. I had chai tea. I wasn't angry when I forgot to take my meds. I listened to Death Cab For Cutie. I wanted to learn calligraphy. Even though my hands were cold, I lived and just ironed my hair. And then I did my homework.
That's when it all fell apart.
I'm not going to act like it was the end of the world--even though I was 15 minutes ago. I wrote a paper. And then I deleted it.
After that I hated WORD. Nat Sam told me I'm not allowed to use WORD anymore. Google.docs from here on out.
He's pretty much a genius, and he couldn't even find my paper.
So.
That kind of makes me a retard.
I wonder how you say "retard" in French?
Because I deleted my paper, and I knew I was doing it. But I didn't stop. Gah. David the retard girl who can't even work WORD.
I think I'll treat myself to vanilla ice cream and earl grey tea now. I don't know why I do these things.
Love Bells.