I wanted concrete floors and picked the wrong guy to install them. Haven’t lived in my own home for over a month now. This has been somewhat stressful but it’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me by far and I’ve been handling it pretty well. By that I do not mean internalizing it all and making myself sick (and stress is a definite trigger for my autoimmune woes). I’ve actually been pretty cool about all of this. In a few weeks, if I’m still not in my house, that will all change.
In a few weeks, hockey season will be fully underway.
Getting to sleep has never been something I excelled at. Getting to sleep with six cats jockeying for the for the coveted “Denise’s Forehead” position is impossible. At my house the cats may not enter the master bedroom so this part hasn’t exactly been exciting.
An animal catcher had to come to my house to catch Misha before the failed flooring project began. I’m talking about a real, honest to goodness wrangler in a khaki uniform with a name patch sewn over his chest pocket and everything. Awkward.
After a year of agonizing over what my heartbreak conquering big change should be, I finally have an appointment to chop off all of my hair. I hope my Tuesday night isn’t spent with a bottle of wine in one fist and a two-foot long ponytail in the other while I’m babbling something about how I should have gone with the new tattoo.
I’ve always bemoaned what I feel are deplorable driving habits exhibited by many those with “PINELLAS” embossed on the bottom of their Florida license plates. This is, to my defense, a sentiment shared by many of my closest friends over the years. After spending the last month living in the county where people get those license plates – a county I consider very much a part of my regular stomping grounds and the place that shaped me here at home in the Tampa Bay Area – I have absolutely no appologies for any of my past comments. Any person who actually learned to drive here and then grew up and must now communte across the Bay should attend mandatory de-Pinellas-ing driving course.
Zelda has been spayed. I guess I have to keep her now.
I’ve finally seen The Smashing Pumpkins in concert. I’ve only seen one other concert (Coheed and Cambria, third time) and one musical (Mama Mia, second time) and two movies (Tropic Thunder and Pineapple Express) in the last month. It’s been … dull.
When a friend buys Rock Band, expect their house to be the new hang out for the next few weeks. Thank God no one else ever wants to sing ’cause I just can’t get into the toy instruments. Expect pictures of every dual 100% Eryn and I (aka: Dying To Exit) achieve.
I need to buy a new outfit for Tuesday. I mentioned that I’m chopping off all of my hair, right? That’s kind of a major thing for me. I actually had a nightmare about it after my consultation but I don’t think Angel will chop off most of my hair without looking, leaving 3 strands at the previous length and bleach it all blonde, ya’ know, unless I ask her.
If you’re hard at work seeking a sense of normalcy, try to do it while living in your own home. It’s not so easy when you’re stuck in “guest” mode for too long.
I’ve been shopping for a new bicycle. Something chill but not a “Beach Cruiser.” Must have a few gears and no coaster brake! I’d like something crank-forward that I can ride even when I’m flaring as hunching over handlebars can be painful when I’m sick. Anyone have an Electra Amsterdam or Townie they wish to opine on? Or a Giant Suede? Better yet: anyone have either that I may ride?!?!
I can’t believe it’s September, 2008. Time passing is both sad and really, really needed.
