In Which I Am Almost a Major Fuckup:

I almost told Will about Lilly last night.
But Will is not Lilly; I can't tell him everything. 

Sometimes I feel like Will wants to come onto me. I may just be conceited. Either way, I don't feel like dumping my love-related problems on him would bring me anything but absolute trouble. My gut just says this is not something you tell Will about.
Mom is going to be very late coming home. I intend to open all the windows, smoke in the living room, and find a good movie on TV. I could use a night away from everybody.