As much as I tend to bitch about Ryan, I must say that he still has a knack for coming through now and then precisely when I need it most. After spending my entire day yesterday watching Buffy, lying in bed, being miserable for no good reason I can think of, getting impatient and snappy with my well-meaning daughter, Ryan called last night and offered to keep her for the night, just for the hell of it. Being the selfish person I am, I took him up on the offer. And did nothing. Ate a salad. Watched more Buffy. Talked to Anne for a few minutes on the phone. Fell asleep watching Saturday Night Live around 11:30. And this morning? I'm gonna read. Uninterrupted. And then I'm going to finish cleaning this fucking house before I light the whole thing up in flames. My kitchen isn't finished, I have no light in there, I need to paint, and my oven is on the fritz. The kitchen faucet is still running. My toilet handle sticks. Oh, and the drain in my bathroom is clogged, probably with my own hair, which has been shedding like crazy again as of late.
If this Draino shit doesn't work, I'm shaving my head again.
Then I'm going to blow up the house. Sure, I'll warn the neighbors first. But then I'm going to spend a lovely Sunday evening standing in the back yard, listening to the sound of all the little black boys and girls singing their hearts out in the church behind my house, watching the grey paint peel off in chips larger than my head, the windows exploding from the pressure. And then I'm going to live in my car. Because I have a Volvo now, which is a step up from the Aries. Quite a few steps up, actually. Maddie and I will install dorm appliances in the back and park ourselves down by the river. I have a camp grill. It could work.
Remember how yesterday I said something about couples working on their respective psychoses before moving in together? Yeah. This would be one of mine: try not to go all berserko every time we have a busy week.
Mountains, molehills.
Drain is clogged. Water problems. My reserve of witchy know-how tells me this is a physical manifestation of my emotional state, i.e., there's a clog in my head. Maybe I've been watching too much Buffy, but methinks my witchy reserve would be right.
"oh this water is making my death
every season stealing my man from my bed
and if this winter carry him through to the next
all I can offer is yours to take
keep me from cold
heave me from foolishness days
make me a woman whose love knows how to wait"
- Ida