Just..flammable means combustible. Inflammable means you can't set it on fire.

I called the Pr. Hl. Clinic this a.m. and was rude to the person who called the phone. I was just mad because I am full of anxiety over the whole idea of my teeth being screwed over royally, and the problem of having to ride the bus but having no money for it. And my ear is getting effed up on one side, my eyes are affected by all this, I weigh too goddamn much, etc.
 
And I have about 3 bucks, total, to my name. Kay was talking about selling old jewelry to those places that buy silver and gold--if she sold stuff there, then the place is honest. I do have some silver jewlry, some that I am reluctant to sell-but I sho' do need some cash.

We were really really really in a strange way on Fri. Not unpleasant but I remember one other bus trip where I was in this bizarre mood--there was a lady to the left of me in a really colorful tie-dye outfit and she had a smiley-face backpack (vinyl--I once saw one like it I would have bought if I had been bold enough, in a Payless window), and there was another guy, a former bus driver, who was talking about how his heart attack came on him--and I suddenly had chest pains, pretty bad. And I had been in that odd mood, whatever it is. Mine were from anxiety I'm sure.

I felt uplifted and like I was doing so well. It was just emotinal, I don't know what it was. Technically I feel like I didn't do what I was supposed to do that day, esp. since I had borrowed money and didn't spend it right. But it was a stunning day and I felt happy in spite of everything. I think because I had been praying  a lot in the spirit that week, and doing constructive things. And getting a lot of negative emotion out, various people had been coming up venting. They needed to. Becky is gone, she "died" as we do. She wanted to kill herself, but was told (by Ty?) that it is our privilege to go when we feel we can no longer bear life, holding our burden. We do not wish to let the memories drag us down to hell.

So the emotions may have been locked up in Becky. There was a woman up on Sat. or Sun. morning who really had to cry and let go the misery. I don't care to say what about, really awful. Poor baby.

And someone left a biscuit in the toaster oven--not good, sis had to turn the oven off. Not good. Plus it wasted some flour but it could have burned that's the important thing--burned up the house.