Sunday, December 8, 2013

Cave Rules

Bras, underwear, and socks must all be bright colors.  This is to make it easier to find them in the pile of black clothes draped over the back of a chair.

Junk mail may pass over the threshold, and go no further.  There is a trash can next to the front door.  I don't care if it's tacky, so is junk mail on every flat surface of this house.

No switching purses.  That's how lipstick and inhalers disappear (4 months AWOL).  Nobody gives a shit what your purse looks like.

No dishes in the sink overnight.

Packages must be opened in the garage, next to the trash can.  Packaging materials do not come back into the house.

Every room has a dedicated pair of scissors and a dedicated box of tissues.

Nothing may stay on a surface longer than the time it is actively being used.  Lamps, boxes of tissues, flower arrangements, and scissors are exempt.

Monday, December 2, 2013

Words and pictures

Sooooo, what's been going on in The Cave lately?

I tie dyed some sheets for Coworker ML who moved back to the PacNW.  She likes octopussessessesss, and the color turquoise, so I ran with that theme.
Fitted sheet.  The rings look like suckers or fossil coral or droplets falling into water.  It's damn near impossible to photograph a fitted sheet without a mattress.
Sucker rings on the top sheet.
Sucker rings on the bottom of the pillowcase, fish bones on the top.
Gotta have something to wrap these sheets in... I wonder if I can tie-dye an octopus?
Oh, shit, no, that's creepy as hell.  It's District 9 meets Lovecraft.  Good execution, though.  Awful design.
Well, it's slightly less creepy.  Execution isn't as good, though.  Looks like an alien with a fancy fancy beard.  I gave this to her so she can make a throw pillow if she's feeling wacky.
Third time's the charm.  Nailed it!  The heart on the forehead is totally intentional, by the way.  >flexing<
Looks super cute wrapped, too.  The tentacles hug the present.  Awwww.  And yes, she cried when I gave this to her.

 What else?  It's been Home Improvement week in The Cave.

Got my dining set out of my tiny tiny kitchen and into my dining room.
Decided that the upholstery on the chairs was beyond awful, and the metal frames needed a paint job, so Mom took them apart.  I'm on wire-brush-and-paint duty.
Yes, I am ABSOLUTELY going to reupholster my dining chairs with this gloriously obnoxious fabric.  It matches EVERYTHING in my house.  EVERYTHING.
Including my front door.  Still needs a few more coats to be even, and to have the blue tape peeled off the glass and hardware.  But still.  Behr's "Delicious Berry."  Not bad, eh?
Lessee, what else? 

Got mah hurr did.
Made Spectra pretty for the holidays.
Designed a logo for my experimental camp for 7th and 8th graders this summer.
Kissed Kevin for a promotional email at work.  Kevin is the lizard.  Kevin is a girl.  Kevin was not amused.
Gave offerings to Geraldine the Destroyer, Eater of Parsley...
...and her minion, ManMan.  

I've actually been in a pretty good mood.  Way less stressed out and anxious.  Could it be because I have breathing room?  Could it be that my life is not a chaotic mess anymore?

Could it be that I have a fleece penguin outfit that I've been wearing pretty much constantly when I'm not at work?  IF I DON'T GO TO WORK I NEVER HAVE TO CHANGE OUT OF IT AHAHAHAHAHAAA

Saturday, November 30, 2013

Back on the wagon

Welp, it happened.  I outfatted all my pants.

So many things converged all at once to make this happen.  A year of living with a dude who ate like a frat boy, and the stress of that dude and his disorder, and the stress of having my work life fall apart due to the stress of that dude and his disorder, and the evicting of the dude and his unfathomable mess, and the cat dying, and my house in shambles.... yeah, I decided to eat whatever the hell I wanted as a band-aid.  Boy, it shows.  I'm back up around 190 pounds.  25 pounds!  BOOOOO.

Don't get me wrong, kids, I am not about the body-shaming here.  I like the skinny, I like the chub, I like the pear shaped and apple shaped and hourglass shaped and the ruler shaped.  I like all y'all.  I'm not even particularly unhappy with the shape of me right now.  I'm just 10 pounds over the weight limit of any of my pants.

I hate pants shopping.  I hate it with the heat of a thousand dying suns (thanks, The Oatmeal).  I am just shy of six feet tall, and weirdly proportioned.  Big ole ironing board ass, no waist to speak of, beer gut, disproportionately long legs....

The pain of changing my eating habits (which is a substantial amount of pain) is less than the pain of trying to find pants that fit.

I gaze into a bowl of kale and spaghetti squash covered in marinara, instead of glorious pasta covered in something involving cheese.  I gaze at the pile of dishes in the kitchen that has been created from cooking all this vegetable shit.

Oh well.  I like vegetables.  Not super fond of maintenance cooking, but what the hell.

It beats buying pants.

Monday, November 18, 2013

Things I Have Not Gotten Used To Yet

It is very quiet in my home.

I go to bed very early.

I can keep the door into the garage closed.

I have a dining table.

I can wander around naked if I want to.

I don't have to bleach the garage floor twice a day.

I don't have to wear slippers in the house for fear of stepping in something unpleasant.

I can sleep past 5, and do not have to be home at 5 and 9 on the dot.

I can sleep with my bedroom door open, allowing the dog to move about freely.

The porch is very empty.

I can park in the dead center of the driveway.

The sponge in the kitchen sink is never mildewy from not being wrung out.

The dishwasher is properly loaded.

The cabinets are arranged with military precision.

I have several swaths of floor to lay out large bits of fabric for elaborate folding and tying.

I do not worry about things on the floor getting peed on.

My house has no discernible smell, unless I am burning a candle with a smell or cooking something.

There are not syringes strewn about my home.

I could go on a vacation if I wanted.

The rats have their own room and several cages to choose from (they only utilize one, but they have options).

I worry that I will get used to all these things, and then I will never again be able to tolerate another human in my living space again.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Life goes on

- Picked up Old Man's cremains yesterday.  He's about the size of a rolled-up pair of socks.  Didn't expect to cry when the lady handed me the paper bag full of my old friend, but I did.  Didn't realize I had any tears left.

-Coworker ML (who is-was?- technically my supervisor) is moving back to the PacNW.  Coworker AL is taking her place, which makes me happy.  Coworker AL is a smart dude and almost impossibly amiable.  You just can't get mad at the guy, which is a good thing when you're receiving your teaching evaluations, I imagine.  I'm also glad that we're not hiring some outsider, as I don't like having to decode new people very often.  It will be very different from Coworker ML's tenure, but at least I feel like I can predict how AL will tick.

-As a farewell gift to Coworker ML, I am tie-dying a set of bedsheets.  Her husband is eighty three feet tall, so they're California King sheets, which is a difficult thing to hang on the line to dry.  It's like trying to fold a wet sail by yourself.  ML likes octopussessesseses, and teal, so I'm going to do the fitted sheet with a big smoke-ring pattern (like suckers on tentacles), the top sheet with waves, and a combo of both on the pillowcases, all in watery teal shades.  I have also sort of figured out how to tie an octopus, so I need to make a big square scarf with an octopus to serve as wrapping paper (furoshiki or nothing, I say).  I have figured out how to do butterflies and flowers and mandalas and octopusseseeses, but I still can't figure out how to do a bat.  Alas.

- I have been cleaning and puttering around the house.  This house is a rabbit warren of small rooms, and I inherited a ton of antique furniture.  Most of the furniture is too big for the rooms.  As such, my dining room has been home to a roll-top desk, two nightstands, a vanity, and a large dresser for 3 years.  The tiny tiny kitchen has had a small dining set, but you can't use it because of the location.  Nobody has any idea why my grandmother felt the need to obstruct doorways with a dining set in the kitchen.  On Thursday, I moved the desk to the office, the dining set to the dining room, and the vanity to the kitchen to serve as a non-doorway-blocking shelf.  The dresser remains in the dining room, doing a rather good impersonation of a liquor cabinet.  I have yet to train myself to eat at the table, though.

-The rats have colds, so I have to give them both oral meds twice a day until they stop sneezing.  The only reason I have been successful is because I am in possession of coconut pecan cookies, which are apparently rat currency.  I bet they'd let me shave them for a cookie.  I bet they'd ride the dog for a cookie.  These cookies are very very important to the rats.  They are less sneezy.

-My guest room needs a paint job.  First Roommate painted the lower half of the walls dark chocolate brown, into which she scraped a roughly woodlike pattern, and the upper half dark olive with a weird crinkly texture, separating the two bits with a white chair rail.  I'm not super into olive.  I have many cool-toned objects that do not match the rest of my pinkredburgundy decor, and those objects can live in the guest room, but I gotta switch it up.  I'm thinking peacock blue.  There are swatches on my wall.  I also plan to loft the little twin bed, so as to be able to hide objects underneath.  I had a lofted bed all through college, I have never gotten over the happy nestlike feeling of being "up."  I'd loft my bed in my bedroom, if I thought the dog would be able to get up there.

-Thanksgiving is coming, which means I need to come up with a suitable cocktail to take to the family dinner, and I also need to go to Ikea to buy a bag of meatballs.  Yes, I bring Ikea meatballs to Thanksgiving.  I feel no shame about this.  This also means that "The Loop" is coming up.  "The Loop" is a yearly tradition- my sister-in-law's brother started organizing a pub crawl at the local high-end shopping center on Black Friday, and it's gotten more ridiculous as the years have gone on.  One year they made tee-shirts, another year they were escorted out by mall security.... It costs $50 to buy in, the Chairman holds the cash, places the orders, and tips the staff, and we swim among the throng of shoppers getting ever more inebriated.  I highly recommend you start a spinoff in your town.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

End of an era

On Saturday, I said goodbye to my decrepit old cat, Gypsy Boots.

In his younger and more gloriously fuzzy days.
His body just gave up on him.  Between the wildly fluctuating blood sugar, and the neuropathy making his ass end unreliable, and the food allergies, and the kidney problems, he was ready to go.  I spent the night in the living room with him on Thursday, helping him walk when his butt decided not to work. Friday afternoon I came home from work for a few hours at lunch to sit with him in the sun on the front porch.  Friday night my mother took the jealous jealous dog, and the Old Man and I had one last sleepover.  We hung out in the living room and ate whatever the hell we wanted, and watched a Phyllis Diller special, and slept in a basket on the floor, and enjoyed each other's company in a bittersweet sort of way.  On Saturday we took one last car ride.  Everyone, including the vet and the techs, cried.  He was surrounded by people who cared for him when he died.

If there is a Cat Valhalla, he definitely sauntered in, probably uninvited.
Gypsy wandered into the house in 2002.  When I say "wandered in," I really do mean that.  He waltzed into the house from goodness knows where and just stayed.  We thought he was a girl, because whoever neutered the guy left him nothing :::ahem::: to indicate his dudeness.  I asked her what her name was.... "Sonja?" >ignore<  "Ursula?"  >ignore<  "Gypsy Rose Lee?"  >coy meow< "Your name is Gypsy?"  >another coy meow<  It was only later that I learned that she was a he and that "gypsy" is a terrible racist slur.  By then, I was calling him "Asshole" almost exclusively, though, so it worked out.

With Turbo, who formed the rest of his motorcycle gang.
Gypsy hated Trixie.  A lot.  A LOT a lot.  Trixie was incredibly jealous of Gypsy (and anything I pay attention to that isn't her).  Gypsy tolerated my mother's cat Simon, and didn't care about the Nephews one way or the other.  On his last visit, the Heir delighted in saying "Gypsy is OOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLD" over and over and over.

During a rare truce.  It was hot, and this is where the breeze was blowing.
Generously sharing his chaise with Simon.
Being tolerant of The Heir.
In his younger days, Gypsy was a vicious predator who preferred to consume his victims rather than leave them as gifts for his humans.  The only evidence he left of his killings was feet.  I have a rather macabre little collection of bird feet because of this awful hobby.  His last confirmed kill was two years ago, when he managed to drag a large dove into the house and proceeded to murder it in front of horrified houseguests.  I do not know how many victims he claimed over the years.

I am Death.  Merry Christmas.
Gypsy's other awful hobby was sexually abusing inanimate objects, usually blankets and shoes.  He liked to do this in front of people, and occasionally in front of Simon.  The rhythmic thud of a shoe being dragged down the stairs by a feline pervert will always be one of my cherished memories, and one that the rest of my family will desperately try to forget.

Heeeey, is that a shoe?
Gypsy required two insulin shots a day for the last several years of his life.  It was inconvenient at best, and a burden at worst.  He was also unable to climb into the litterbox for the last few years. He destroyed every flooring surface he came into contact with.  I have become friends with the guy who sells 123-Odor-Free carpet cleaner as a result.  Got a urine problem?  That product is legit.

I got you a present.  Here's a hint- it's not in the litterbox.  Happy Holidays.
He actively hated every man I ever dated.  

He gave up grooming himself in the last two years, preferring to become a matted, sticky, dandruff-covered mess.  I finally gave up this year and started shaving him.  His last few months were very goofy looking, but much more comfortable.

Why have you stolen my dignity?  And where is my rubber ducky?
Aint nobody dope as me, I'm just so fresh so clean.
I loved him dearly, every horrid filthy perverse jealous stinky repulsive inch of him.  Even when he was pissing in every corner of my house.  Even when he was being rushed to the emergency vet to the tune of thousands of dollars.  Even when he could only eat expensive prescription food.  Even when he bit me for trying to comb out his fur.  Even when he could no longer make his legs work and had to have his food dish pushed under his nose to eat.

Gettin old aint for sissies.
Gypsy Boots was my boy.  I loved him.

People used to ask me why I put up with all his foolishness, why I let his ailments and faults destroy my property and my social life and my sanity.  I always replied the same way.

"I will be old and inconvenient someday, too, and I hope someone will put up with me."  

It remains true.
Goodbye, Old Man.  I love you.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Train wreck

Anyone else finding 2013 to just be a train wreck?

I cannot remember being this mentally fucked up.  I'm a mess.  It's not Mercury retrograde, either, it's just across-the-board, total life system failure.

I have no idea how to appropriately respond to ANYTHING anymore.  Everything is red alert, all the time.

Getting the toxic roommate out of the house helped, but that's a single snowflake in the avalanche.  I don't even know how to start digging out.

I am in that Catch-22 situation of probably needing therapy, but not being able to afford it.

Maybe admitting that it's out of control is good enough for today.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013


I'm terrified that there are nothing but forests.

I still have fins.

Monday, November 4, 2013

Spoke too soon

All the leftover shit that someone didn't move when he had the truck?

That was supposed to be out on Thursday?

That I spent all day Friday hoping someone would retrieve?

That my mother and I had to spend all day Saturday cleaning up?

That has been sitting in my driveway since Saturday afternoon?

That my neighbors have been bitching about since Sunday morning?

It's still there.

Things in the pile:

random garbage
parts of broken toys
phone bills
brokedown furniture
things from trash piles that "might be useful someday"
spray paints
large bits of plastic
things that smell terrible
a bigass heavy TV that may or may not work
car insurance bills
collectibles still in their boxes
a grill that may or may not work
a bag of clay
resins (I'm presuming they're resins)
a BB gun that looks very much like a handgun
his favorite hat
more random trash
art supplies
a toaster
a hibachi that doesn't work

Things in the pile that I want to remain on the property:

I had such high hopes.  I am so unbelievably angry that this mess continues to be MY problem.

I have to shake off the rage before my performance evaluation at work tomorrow.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

My silly little hobby

What I have here is a "root situation."  And a "pink situation."  And a "dark circle situation."

I can solve one of these problems with chemicals.

I swear, the pink will never go away.  It will be pink forever.

While I like the weird yellow-to-flamingo sort of look, it makes my nose seem really red.

Okay, maybe my nose IS really red.  Still, nobody likes yellow roots.

I don't even know what to call this.  Let's call it "moonstone," because "pinkish-greyish-bluish-purplish-blonde" isn't a color.

I'm going to run more blue through it later.  

Monday, October 21, 2013

Ten Days

Ten days till the Bio-Exorcism.

Mercury went retrograde last night, which means, unlike the rest of the world that has descended into chaos and frustration, I am feeling pretty okay.  I was born during a Mercury retrograde, so I just don't get the downsides.  Nay, it's the only time of year I feel like I have my shit together.  Usually.  Well, as together as my shit can be.

Went to go see Alton Brown's "Edible Inevitable" show, which was great.  If you have the means and the opportunity, go see it.  It's amusing as hell.  He sings a song that's basically talking shit about other Food Network stars.  He tweeted this picture:

I'm on the right, just in front of the light board.  Can't you see me?  I'm right there.
The view from my perspective.
Let's see... what else has been going on in the Cave?

I bought myself a present.
I smell like whale barf.  It smells very pretty.

I'm getting pinker by the day.
I'm not drunk, I'm just chewing chocolate-covered gummy bears.
And the rabbits have made an impressive tunnel system.
View from tunnel entrance.  Please note cinderblock perimeter.  I planned ahead.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Today's highlights

Woke up to find the Old Man Cat unable to stand, unable to eat, and pitched forward into the food bowl.  He then proceeded to have a weird slow-motion seizure and then shit himself in the carrier on the way to the vet.  Turns out he's had unbelievably low blood sugar for at least two weeks, was borderline dead when the vet techs got some glucose in his system, and needs less than a quarter of the insulin that he's been getting. Today's emotional damage-  I am terrified to give him his insulin, because he hasn't eaten very much since coming home.  Today's financial damage- over a grand, which my mother generously picked up because I do not have that kind of cash, and we get to go back on Thursday and then again in two weeks.  It will take me months to pay her back, but it's better than owing a credit card company or not having any options at all.

The library project at work was restarted after taking an hour and a half to figure out how I had it laid out the first time before I got interrupted by 900 other things.  As soon as I got it sorted, I had to stop again, as there was a meeting in the library.  I cannot touch the project tomorrow or Thursday, as I am teaching twice on both days, and it takes about an hour to restart the project every time.  Oh well.  At least I had a half-hour warning that the meeting was going to occur, and I was able to at least stack the books in piles that correspond to their new numbering system.  Maybe I can get to it on Friday.  Maybe the labels I ordered will have arrived by then.

Not that I could catalog any of the books anyway, since the database program simply will not open on my work computer.  I can't think of a ray of sunshine to blow up this one's ass.  Fuck Filemaker.

Was just attacked by a large aggressive dog while walking Trixie.  This dog broke down its own front fence to come after us.  I am large enough and loud enough that the dog decided against it (but still came back for another threat run), but it still scared the hell out of me.  This is the second time we have been attacked by large aggressive dogs who have either scaled or broken down front yard fences while walking.  Trixie seems to have no idea that she was just about to get her throat torn out.  Physical damage- turned ankle and knee from evasive action, swollen wrist from yanking her leash to keep her from further angering the attacking dog.  Emotional damage- now a little more paranoid about other dogs, nerves completely shot.  At least Trix is in one piece.

I've been pulling Tarot cards lately, just to give myself something to get a grip on when things start going to hell.  This morning I pulled a Reversed Wheel of Fortune (bad luck) and this afternoon I pulled a Nine of Swords (drama queen).  Indeed.

October 15, I am 100% done with you.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

The unyielding heartbreak of fins

I am a fish.
I have been a fish my entire life.
I am very good at being a fish.
My scales are pretty.
My fins are graceful in the water.
I float and bob and spin and dart, when I swim it is like poetry.

Climb this tree!  
Arboreal life is the way to be.
I fling myself out of the water and flop helplessly.

Why can't you just climb this tree?
The herons didn't have a hard time getting up here, and they were in your pond.
I stare into the branches as I begin to suffocate.

You just aren't trying hard enough!
If you applied yourself, you could climb this tree!
I roll, exhausted, back into the water.

I gaze helplessly at the branches above me.
I visit doctors to try to exchange my fins for legs.
All they can give me is thicker slime, so I can stay on the shore a few minutes longer before drying out.

I ache for legs.
I yearn to see the world from the treetops.
Over and over, I fling myself onto the shore.

I know you're a fish, but everyone needs to climb the tree.
I think you just need to change your attitude.
Is there anything we can do to help you grow legs?

I grow more colorful scales, in the hopes that maybe it will compensate for my gills.
I swim in more graceful patterns.
I desperately try to make being a fish okay.

The swimming is nice, but you still have fins.
Why aren't they legs yet?
The frog grew legs, so you understand our frustration, don't you?

My pond has turned to saltwater from my tears.
I have been a fish my whole life.
When will that be okay?

My pond is evaporating.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Looking forward to....

Never finding an unwrung sponge in the sink.

Never wondering if the animals have been given access to something they shouldn't have.

Knowing where all my belongings are.

The pickle shelf in the fridge being used solely for pickles.

Having a Guest Nest.

Redecorating the room that will become the Guest Nest.

Having all my books in one place.

Having a dining set in my dining room, instead of bedroom and office furniture.

Having a sewing area that isn't on the bedroom furniture in the dining room.

Putting rats in the office again, and being able to rig up Ratopia so they can run around and play and hopefully stop trying to chew their cage to bits.

Being able to access my blanket chest so I don't have to have the down comforter on the bed year-round.

Walking around the house in various states of undress if I feel like it.

Hanging up all the framed antique Japanese art that is currently languishing in the coat closet.

Knowing that if something is left out, or left unwashed in the sink, or is sitting in the dryer, that I AM THE CULPRIT.

Hanging my dartboard cabinet where the rat cage has lived for over a year.

Sleeping with my bedroom door open so that the dog can go in and out without having to pester me awake.

Hosting Ladies Night again, since the house will be clean and non-humiliating.

Getting the house tented for termites.

Redoing the yard after getting the house tented for termites.

Taking out the ficus tree that is lifting the patio concrete and that shits leaves everywhere.

Maybe taking out the carob tree that also shits leaves everywhere, and replacing it with something that produces food.

Painting my scavenged patio furniture so that it looks like it belongs together.

Finishing my floor and being done with carpet FOREVER.

Being somewhat in control of the smell in my house (the cat does have some say in this, but as long as his blood sugar is under control, he's usually pretty good), instead of constantly smelling Slovenly Man Stank.

Not having to explain "No, he's just the dude who lives here.  No, we're not involved.  No, he's not my ex.  No, I'm not being coy."

Not feeling like a sucker.

The Anguish of Creativity

As I was busily playing Whole House Tetris on some graph paper today, I managed to design something beautiful and luxurious and glamorous and covered in bats and and and


Nobody I know has a room that could accommodate such a thing.

>gnashing teeth<

I bet this is why people build dollhouses.

Sunday, October 6, 2013

Planning the Shuffle

So, now that I KNOW I am getting my house back in less than 30 days, I am abandoning all Halloween prep in favor of Whole House Tetris prep.

I have a lot of furniture.  It's part of the fun of living in your grandmother's house- the house was full when I got here, and I brought my own furniture.  The furniture that was already here is all enormous and antique.  The furniture that I brought is all particleboard and shitty, except my dressers.  Unfortunately, the shitty particleboard serves functions that the antiques do not, and vice versa.

My dining room has been home to an antique cherrywood bedroom set that was way too huge for the guest room that it lived in for 50 years.  The giant dresser/mirror has become a very tall credenza, currently housing my liquor on top and all my office stuff in the drawers.  There are also two nightstands and a vanity.  Added to this is a particleboard rolltop desk that has the rest of my office supplies and some filing cabinets.  I do not have anywhere to sit and eat- I eat over the sink like a frat boy, or on my back patio at a termite-ridden picnic table.  If it's raining, the patio is a no-go.

In my tiny kitchen is a small round dining table and two chairs.  I have no idea why it's in there, my grandmother was weird about compartmentalizing the house.  It is in no way useful, and makes it hard to get in and out of the door.  It's also ugly, but I can deal with ugly.

My den is home to a smallish ugly couch, an antique Indonesian chest, a barrel shaped end table with storage underneath, and a red metal locker cabinet TV thing from Ikea.  There are bookshelves flanking the fireplace, but they are shitty particleboard and cannot hold more than 35 pounds per shelf (wtf?).  They are already bowed.  Part of me thinks I should just build something into the space that will actually, yanno, SUPPORT books.  The other part of me is already overwhelmed with projects.

In the office, there will be two shitty particleboard bookshelves that actually hold a lot of weight and don't look bad, a shitty particleboard corner desk that I brought home from college that has probably been utterly ruined, a large antique blanket chest full of linens, and my great-grandmother's gliding chair, which needs to be reupholstered but is otherwise fine (and has swan heads supporting the armrests, which is glorious).  There is also a wooden dresser in there, which does not have to live there.

In the guest room there are (or will be) two silver-painted wooden dressers and a twin bed.  There is also a cherrywood pie table currently serving as a nightstand.

So far, I think I have everything sorted out, but I just don't know what to do with the rolltop desk, the vanity, the nightstands, or the red TV cabinet (I have no TV).

I should measure things and start drawing up a battle plan.

I should also work on my floor (I'm 1/6 done with my den floor!).

I'm getting my houuuuuuuuuuse back.  I'm getting my houuuuuuuuuuuuse back.

Saturday, October 5, 2013

Never wanted to rage-vomit before

After coming home to the eviction letter on his bedroom door, VR was quick to try to apologize, presumably to try to halt what had already occurred.  I raised my voice farther than I should have.

I think I was mean.

I don't like being mean.  There is a difference between being a bitch and being mean.  Being a bitch is just drawing a line in the sand and refusing to budge.  Being mean aims to injure.  I think I was aiming to injure.  I was so full of hurt and latent anxiety and exhaustion that I wanted to share the sensation.

In any case, my gut hurts like hell and every single one of my nerves is shot.  I would give anything for a Xanax right now.

My entire support system was at the movies when I finished my tirade and stormed out of the house to walk the dog and vent the adrenaline.  I had nobody to Monday-morning quarterback with, so now I have no real memory of what I said.  It washed away in a flood of stress hormones.  I hope some of it was taken to heart.  I know I used the phrase "shockingly un-self-aware" and "I cannot have TWO disorders in the house, I am white-knuckling through every day loaded up on an astonishingly high dose of stimulants to try to keep the chaos at bay, and I CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE."

I will probably vomit before bed.

In any case, I am repainting the front door on November 1, and changing out the lock.  I have paint chips taped to the door to see which one grows on me.

I'm so tired of feeling like this.

Never again.

Friday, October 4, 2013

Game Over

The money for the utilities was due October 1.

October 1 has come and gone, as has my patience.

Time to get my guest room back.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Autumnal Equinox

Welp, it seems that we tilted again, and autumn is upon us here in the Northern Hemisphere.  I'm glad, summer wore me right the hell out.

I have a week of staff training at work, with a membership appreciation dinner in the middle, then a tie-dye party on Sunday, then a week off.  A week off!  Glorious!  I should spend the entire time working on my floor, but mostly I want to sleep like the dead.  If I work on my floor, I can have large sections of my house back, though.  And then I can think about the floor in my bedroom...

I am allergic to my carpet.  I have decided that my chronic headache is directly related to sleeping in a carpeted room.  Well, that, and the fact that Roommate is still here.  >drumming fingers<  I want my guest room and office back.

But my bedroom floor!  It will be pink and glittery, and I will paint my walls a bruised sort of pinky lavender, and it will just reek of girly shit in here.  The irony is that it always smells of sandalwood, which I don't consider very feminine, and there are animal bones in here.  Seriously.  My jewelry is hung up on deer antlers, and I can see at least 5 skulls from my bed, not to mention my gruesome little collection of bird feet.  And I have this ridiculous thing hanging over my bed.

It's a kite shaped like a bat.  He's wearing a scarf.

I'm trying to figure out how to make a French canopy that incorporates Mister Muffler Bat.  And isn't my wall color depressing?  I'm pretty sure it's "Navajo White."  Ugh, no, this isn't a prison.  And I need to replace my black bedspread, it's looking really shabby, and all my furniture is dark brown and it's overly cavelike in here.  Maybe a rose and plum and cherry red shibori coverlet?  And a blossom pink canopy?  Hmm.  

What else is going on?

While searching for the source of a bad smell, I made a discovery concerning my haircolor. 

In order to get this purple, I mix a bright pink and a bright blue, and my orange stripe is the same pink mixed with a bright yellow.

 It would seem that the pink is UV reactive, as is the yellow.

Teeth and eyeballs glow too, apparently. 

But only the real parts of my teeth- the parts made of acrylic bonding material go sort of grey.  This really highlights how huge my front teeth are compared to the rest of them.  If you squint at this picture, you can get a pretty good idea of what I'd look like without my little cosmetic enhancements.  My real laterals and incisors are very short and nubby compared to my enormous, rodentlike primaries.

Boris had to investigate this claim.