Stayed home again today, but I worked from home. I decided not to talk today, so I was writing notes to Deb this morning before she went to work. We communicate telepathically half the time anyway, so it wasn't hard.

My mom is afraid for me and wants me to go to a pulmonary specialist because my symptoms remind her of what my dad went through just before he died of pulmonary edema. I'm not really worried, but now that's in my head all the time.

Woke up this morning and Deb wasn't in bed. She'd moved upstairs to sleep in the attic. See, Sara had mentioned that I make ummy noises as I'm falling asleep. Deb started listening to the noises I make and then realized that I was making a noise to go along with every breath and she couldn't get to sleep for all the noise I was making.

Sara made me spaghetti last night and we watched the last two weeks' episodes of Angel.

And speaking of Angel ... Completely unrelated, but funny: Even my dog's a slut.

I called Mac on Sunday but the bitch hasn't called me back. I'll call once more and give him one more chance, but after that I won't call any more. Don't want to look like a stalker or anything.

Deb has really stepped up to the plate while Sara is on the bench.

Sunday evening before dinner we had an excellent date up in the attic where I got to seriously play with her ass. Last night she had to put out after she got home from work. What a trooper. I told her I'd been fantasizing about her masturbating with her vibrator and me penetrating and fucking her with my hand when she was almost on the edge. So that's what we did. And then I got to fuck her a couple more times because she wasn't done yet. Grin.

No change in the casualty list.