April 2, 1913 - Wednesday

2 - Feel better today than last night, and see how I helped out the impression this book, as a whole, gives so well ___ that I'm a nut. I feel better for getting all that bitterness of my mind and I know now that Don was a sweet lad for clearing out before I made a fool of myself, as I surely would have sooner or later; Harriet a nice child for shaking me so decently and politely; the Nut only human to resent being slapped (and myself singularly unladylike to slap him); and Mae a girl who, like anyone else, gets sick of always seeing the same person especially when said person is mushier than mush.

Poor Mae gets a little too much mush, I guess, now that Dan and I are both at it. Perhaps too much is as bad as, or worse than, not enough, from which latter affliction I am suffering. I certainly do wish someone (masculine gender preferred.) would be awfully mushy to me. It isn't self-respecting to wish that but __ "A little mush, now, and then, is relished by the best of women" to misquote a well-known author (I disremember his name but I can throw a bluff that I know who said it)

To resume, mush is awfully comforting at times, though there are also times when it sickens you. The poor males must think it's rather queer when their ladies fair turn from them suddenly and refuse with abhorrence what they really liked before, but the L. F.s can't help it, though it's hard for the Ms. to tell just when to mush and when not. (Such philosophy!)

Went down to the Library with Mae, this evening.