Boring
Activity level: not too shabby. Laundered bedding, fed snakes, ridded up dishes, cleaned and rearranged countertop to make room for the toaster-oven my dad and stepmother gave us for Christmas. Our old toaster oven (which was seriously almost as old as me) died a couple of years ago, and I don't know why I never got another. Wasn't I just whining the other night about having to heat up the whole oven to toast hot dog buns? Well, there you go.
More cleaning and tidying must occur before Wednesday, when my mom is coming to visit and look at the house next door. I've been trying to convince her to let me rent it and move her back to New Orleans even though she has a house to sell in Mississippi, and I think I'm almost there. I don't know why she ever thought she wanted to live in rural Mississippi, and she's bored to death, plus it would be nice for me having her right next door. I doubt I would have thought so when I was younger, but my life is a lot more sedate now. And being a hermit doesn't keep one from getting lonely.
Obviously she knows I'll be going through some transition-related stuff in the next few years. The situation wouldn't really be feasible if she didn't. She's not a hundred percent comfortable with it (I'd be surprised if parents ever are), but she's really, really trying.
Anybody want to buy a house in rural Mississippi (but within an hour's drive of New Orleans)? Nice Acadian cottage, 4 acres including woodland, great birdwatching!
I'm suddenly sleepy, which is not allowed; I still have litterboxes to scoop. Can't decide whether to lie down and rest my back for a little while first or just go ahead and do it while I'm still (more or less) ambulatory. I didn't get Chris to bring in any God damn jugs of litter from the trunk of my God damn car, so I'll have to go get them my God damn self, and those God damn things kill my back. This is boring. I know it's boring. It's boring to have to think through the steps of every action before you do it and decide whether you're capable of them. Boring.
More cleaning and tidying must occur before Wednesday, when my mom is coming to visit and look at the house next door. I've been trying to convince her to let me rent it and move her back to New Orleans even though she has a house to sell in Mississippi, and I think I'm almost there. I don't know why she ever thought she wanted to live in rural Mississippi, and she's bored to death, plus it would be nice for me having her right next door. I doubt I would have thought so when I was younger, but my life is a lot more sedate now. And being a hermit doesn't keep one from getting lonely.
Obviously she knows I'll be going through some transition-related stuff in the next few years. The situation wouldn't really be feasible if she didn't. She's not a hundred percent comfortable with it (I'd be surprised if parents ever are), but she's really, really trying.
Anybody want to buy a house in rural Mississippi (but within an hour's drive of New Orleans)? Nice Acadian cottage, 4 acres including woodland, great birdwatching!
I'm suddenly sleepy, which is not allowed; I still have litterboxes to scoop. Can't decide whether to lie down and rest my back for a little while first or just go ahead and do it while I'm still (more or less) ambulatory. I didn't get Chris to bring in any God damn jugs of litter from the trunk of my God damn car, so I'll have to go get them my God damn self, and those God damn things kill my back. This is boring. I know it's boring. It's boring to have to think through the steps of every action before you do it and decide whether you're capable of them. Boring.
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