Mood: Rum happy
Listening to: Stay – Thirty Seconds to Mars (live)
Let’s clear a few things up internets. Jared Leto in Thirty Seconds
to Mars – Yes. Sweet baby eggplants yes.
That man has pipes that make me wanna weep. Oh for god’s sake- not that kind of pipe you kinky wankers.
Second – My house does not eat poo. It eats stuff in a way
that when I go looking for random things, they are nowhere to be found. Now,
this may seem normal to you if you are a person who is not of the overly neat/organized/Martha
Stewart Magazine/compulsive persuasion. Unfortunately, I am all of the previous
adjectives. In my entire life, I have never lost so many things as go missing
in this apartment. Not I forget where I put them, things are not where I left
them. I’m one of those annoying people
that repeats that there is a place for everything and everything in its place.
I know, I know. I really can’t help it – but I do try to keep that phrase in my
head instead of annoying the sam hell out of the people around me.
This has a tendency to throw me off the deep end of crazy,
because I just need to not not know where things are. Daddy
G has spent many amused hours watching me throw stuff out of closets and
drawers cursing, looking for something that I swear I left there the last time
I saw it. The worst is electrical cords. I keep all the extra electric cords in
a plastic bag. Most of them are free phone cords that we’ve received over the
years from a new phone or the phone company, and I have no idea why I don’t get
rid of them as we don’t even use our landline right now. So help everyone when
a cord goes missing in my house – it will never, ever be seen again. I’m talking worm hole opening up and the cord
appearing in another dimension out of
the sky and smacking someone on the head type never seen again.
My family was lower middle class when I was growing up.
Things were downright tight most of
the time with both my parents working and doing their best. We grew up with a
rather conservative estimation of what garbage consists of. Namely anything
that is utterly destroyed and cannot be used for anything else. I have annoyed
many a Salvation Army/Goodwill donation center insisting that surely there’s something someone can do with random odd
items. Anyhow, moral is – I absolutely would not have thrown good and useful
cords away.
My kitchen is another area where things magically move
around. I think this has more to do with my new maid rather than the apartment
itself, but seriously, how do you hide a 3 liter pot for an hour while I search
and curse. My kitchen is not huge, let me assure you.
India has done wonders for me when it comes to chilling the fuck
out about things I can’t control – which tends to bleed into absolutely every
aspect of life here (the incontrollability, not my chill level). This is just
one I can’t get over.
I want my damn HDMI cable back apartment. Also, kitchen, I
want that spatula back.
