Stephan bought Julio’s Jeep and is taking the refrigerator that has been living in my garage for the past two years (ie - since I moved in). It’s so great to finally get rid of these things. My dream of clean is slowly but surely becoming a reality.
It is difficult to put lotion on your back tattoo by yourself and I no longer have Jared’s collection of t-shirts to go through when I want to cover up so I don’t stain my bedding (because i don’t wear or own t-shirts).
Tonight I had a few people over in celebration of li’l Pony cutting my grass. He agreed to do that and change my car belts in exchange for dinner. I hate to play the pathetic girl role, but I get bug bites way too bad to be bothered with grass cutting. Plus, Pony’s fave food is hot dogs, so I totally get the best end of the stick.
Amongst my dinner guests, I met a boy who is moving to Buenos Aires the same week I’ll be traveling there. How exciting! We shall have a play date for sure.
I also learned tonight via Toggle Switch that Hieroglyphics and Blue Scholars are playing Va Beach Friday night. I shall be happily attending that show post tattoo with my Secret Lover.
edit: Oh Wait! It’s July 27th, not this Friday! Oh well, more time to plan…
married to myself
my love isobel
living by herself
After an excellent week of visiting and partying, I now officially live alone. These are exciting times. My outlook is good.
There are gonna be some great slumber parties this summer.
Being miserable in your own house is the worst feeling ever. I am occupying my time in May by visiting loved ones as much as possible. Then June will involve a major purging on many levels. My outlook is good.
I spent the night at my Mom’s last night and received a phone call at 2:30 in the morn from the security company. My alarm was going off and they always call first before dispatching police. I jumped out of bed in a panic and rushed over there. I was so nervous at the thought of someone breaking into my house that I wanted to puke.
When I arrived, the police were already there and said everything seemed okay. I suspected that either a kitty had come in from the basement or the kitchen door. That appears to be what happened, even though the motion sensor isn’t supposed to pick up cats.
As we were walking around, one of the cops kept remarking on things. “Wow, you have that? So cool. Oh, look at that. This house is the hook-up.”
Duh, why do you think I was freaking out?!?!
Today I ventured down to the basement to do some laundry. I don’t usually go down there. It’s pretty gross. Between Jared’s stuff, Scott Chapman’s dead animal storage, and just general below-sea-level-basement nastiness, it is just not somewhere I care to be. Most of the time I get Jared to do the laundry, but he was napping and I was in a cleaning mood.
I was down there for all of a few seconds when I looked down and saw a flea on my leg. And then another. And then another. For a total of eight. Needless to say, I was not a happy little girl. If you know anything about me, you know I don’t do well with blood-sucking bugs.
It instantly made me think of my childhood.
You see, I grew up with a lot of pets. And not just dogs and cats, a variety of pets. Deer, rabbits, raccoons, squirrels, quail, a parrot, snakes, turtles, fish, iguanas, you name it. And fleas were a constant battle around the house. These were the days before the once-a-month flea treatments.
My father, knowing how much bugs loved to suck my blood, would use me as a tester. A fly paper of sorts. After spraying the basement for fleas, he would have me walk around the perimeter, and then come back up to inspect my legs. If there were no fleas, all was well. If I was covered in fleas (the usual case) he would hose me down with water to get them off (literally - with the hose). Ahhh, such a glorious childhood I had.
I was actually restricted from the pool once because they thought I had chicken pox. My parents had to call and confirm it was just flea bites. Some things never change.
We have semi-adopted three new pals this week. Two neighborhood cats that we have named Boots and Winston Churchill. Boots has been around for a while, but just started really hanging out. I don’t know where Winston Churchill came from. They both come over for lunch and dinner everyday and are getting less afraid of us.
Jared thought he saw Winston Churchill on the porch last night and went out to feed him but it was a raccoon. The raccoon jumped away, as usual, but then he poked his head back up. We threw some food at him and he climbed on the deck to eat. We ended up hanging out with him and feeding him for a half hour. Burrito and Scott Chapman just sat there and watched. He got pretty close to us, and I was really nervous, but also fascinated. Eventually he came too close and I got scared and shut the door.
UPDATE: The raccoon came back the very next night. At first I yelled at him and told him I already have too many mouths to feed. He started to run away but then turned around and looked me in the eye. It was like he remembered me as being his feeder and he just walked back over to the food bowl and started eating. Little charmer, how could I turn him away?
UPDATE AGAIN: Boots is now on petting and meowing terms with us. He’s official.
UPDATE THE THIRD: After a few days of vacation, the raccoon came back last night. I fed him two bowls of food before cutting him off and telling him not to be a glutton and to come back the next night.
