Parent's Weekend, or How to Drive Me Batty weekend. My father came - not my mother - and, knowing he was nervous, knowing the precarious state of our relationship these days, I put more effort than usual into not fighting with him. There is a tenuous distinction between fighting and arguing, though, and arguments tend to strengthen our ties because we're both so damn fond of it.

But it was all right, mostly. He's gone now. I feel sleepy and strange.

I've had unsettling dreams the past few nights. I knew, going to sleep last night, that I'd probably have them again. And this morning I woke up with leftover dream tears, having dreamed of the place I worked this summer and finding it empty, realizing the summer was over and there was no reason for anyone to be there, and driving away through the dark lightless rainy day. I don't know why that made me sad enough to cry, but it did. And I really hate starting the day like that.

I've been meaning to buy a PJ Harvey album for ages now, and I finally broke down and gave in. Oh so glad I did - it's been a long time since a cd enthralled me.

More later; too tired to write now.