Wilbur sat across the livingroom tonight and said to me, "Why do you have that evil look on your face?" This is not the first time in the last few days that he's said this kind of thing. "Why are you looking at me like that?" has also been popular. The other thing he said tonight - in regard to a blog written by someone he went to college with (a poor excuse for writing with abject "who"/'whom" confusion among myriad other problems) - after I said it might get a comment from me was, "You're not going to be cruel are you?"

I don't know where this whole string of questions came from. Wilbur and I have known each other for 16 or 17 years. I have never willfully harmed Wilbur or anyone else. Sure, I've hurt Wilbur's feelings. It wasn't on purpose. I never thought, "Oh, how can I make Wilbur feel like shit today?" But Wilbur has been picking lately. Everything is a direct affront to Wilbur.

I know why he's cranky. I know he wants a cigarette. And he's done really well for the last two and a half weeks - sucking gross lozenges and taking anti-depressants to combat the urge. It's worthy of applause. So I attribute this latest round of pokes to a nicotine craving. Possibly he's in the mood for a fight. He has these moments every few years.

The last time this sort of thing happened, he was sure I had purposefully embarrassed him. Which is in the same vein as this latest round of things. Insults is, I guess, the real word for it. I find it tiresome. But I'm not going to get into a semantic arguement. And despite what Wilbur might believe, I have nothing more to say.