One

I tried to thwack the avocado pit with a knife. I succeeded, but I also thwacked my finger. The "What do I do?" and general mortality tinges weren't nearly as difficult as the urge to share the experience. I hate when people doubt my ability to do things myself; sink and a bandaid were all I needed (and after my sister's disastrous finger+knife+stitches=permanently effed-up finger incident, I'm perfectly happy letting mine heal on its own). But once I've proven I can do it, it's terribly lonely. Where's a second person to bring me a glass of juice? To make a big deal out of things? A few hours later I made turkey bacon and, even with the fan on and the door wide open, the smoke detector kept going off. I went back and forth waving paper in front of the smoke detector and flipping the bacon. Everything turned out fine. But a second person? Would have been nice.

Yes. I'm lonely. In a way I don't usually get lonely.

Is my sweet potato done yet?