Remember how I had to hide my one sharp kitchen knife from the guy I brought home from rehab, after he went crazy on me? And then I couldn't remember where I hid it? Actually I can't remember if I ever mentioned that here or just told my friends. Anyway, I finally went to Bed Bath & Beyond and bought a new knife yesterday. And then, of course, this morning I found the old one hidden on the top shelf of my kitchen cabinet, behind the aluminum foil.
Damn it.
On a sadder note, I found out yesterday that the rehab boy has been kicked out of his latest sugar daddy's home. He is now turning tricks and living in a park in Minneapolis. He texted me yesterday about it and I told him to check himself immediately into a shelter, but he said he was "too proud to do that." Then you know what? There is fucking nothing I can do about it. You're on your own now, kid. Sorry if that sounds callous, but if you aren't willing to help yourself at least a little bit, then I am not willing to help you.
Sad today.
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