* We’re eager to live in a dumpy trailer that sits on a postage stamp yard because it‘s in the school district. If need be we will beg them to let us. PLEASE!! Please let me figure out how to fit our all our stupid stuff in this matchbox! Please allow me to stir a pot on the stove while sitting on the living room couch! We don’t’ even LIKE having dressers! REALLY!! S E R I O U S L Y …. We went to look at it today…it’s not something you can really prepare yourself for, you wander around your big giant house rounding up your children and then drive to the middle of nowhere (you thought we were already there didn’t ya?) and then form a conga line to fit through the shithole. It was like really bad sex… we’re all doing our damnedest to ooh and ahhh hoping the poor enthusiastic woman would just fucking finish already ’cause the more we saw the worse we felt. Sweet jeebus. And the silence on the way home was deafening. Finally Daughter pipes up with “Well we can’t live there!” and hearty laughter. Oh my darling spoiled child we sure can.
*I had or have a wart. The wart was spotted a couple weeks ago by a discerning individual. Gawd knows how long it’s been on my finger - long enough that I thought it was just part of my finger. I let it go a couple weeks because I was afeared of the cure. But the entire concept disgusts me and I couldn’t deal with the usual get rid of a wart options. Finally I let Tim burn the fucker off on Friday night. On the way down to the basement where he was heating his soldering iron I was tough but then when he tested the temp on his own arm I saw smoke go up and smelled the burning flesh. I got the chickens and he had to bully me a little before I draped my arm across his tool bench and let him get to work. He wrapped his hand around my wrist to keep me from jerking away (I didn’t- jerk) and burned a giant hole in my finger. Well. It was a blister. Then that fell off and now it’s a giant hole. And at the bottom of the hole I’m pretty sure there’s a wart giving me the wart finger. Might take me a week or so to get the nerve up to let him do it again.
* I forgot to smoke or drink dew for about six hours the other day. Just got up in the morning and was busy and didn't smoke. and when I'm not smoking I'm not drinking dew. Then I found myself prone on the floor seeing faces in the texture on the ceiling and realized death was likely near. I managed to crawl out on the porch and smoke and then poured a two liter down my throat. I'm fine now but lordy. close call!
August 30, 2009
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