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I’m sicker than my cat when he’s gotten into something he shouldn’t have. It’s been vomit volcano for three days straight and I’ve only felt well enough to venture out of bed this morning. I hate upset stomach. Well poisonings, at the very least.

And see, this is why I don’t like it when mom starts mixing up spells in the kitchen. She found some hex powder recipe she wanted to try out, on an old ex-boyfriend who has come back around and she hates, which had oleander in it, of all fucking things! She wants to use oleander in her work, fine, whatever. But she knows how bad she is about cleaning up the ingredients when she’s done. The last time this happened was with powdered ghost pepper all over the kitchen. It took me and Angie hours to clean it after a ruined lunch.

I’m lucky it was just me who ended up like this. Angie’s already cleaned the kitchen and given mom a stern dressing down. The old ax has been sulking the whole time I’ve been sick and won’t talk to either of us. Good thing too. I’d hate to choke on my own sick while I’m yelling at her. Holy shit. I’m still mad.

Mom’s lucky Jack wasn’t home.

I’m going back to bed. Ugh.

Blessed be.

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