**I can totally hear my behind-us neighbor talking on the phone. Well, I can hear that she is talking, but I can't make out most of the words. I did hear "choreography" and "diagnosis" and also "maintain" and "turned out GREAT". I think she's a spy.
**I have a bug bite on my kneecap. How does that even happen? It's like I grew an extra cap.
**The husband is substitute-playing for his old softball team tonight. The girl is at a friend's house and may stay the night. I feel like I should be doing something exciting, but I have a headache and I'm tired. Also, still congested. Maybe I'll pretend I did something fun tonight. Like the behind-us neighbor and I had a secret mission.
**Owning a white bathmat will make you feel like you are constantly shedding mud and hair. It's disgusting, is what it is. I wash and bleach the shit out of that thing at least once a week and it only looks good for about 3 seconds after I put it out. Then, it's like a dirty cat rolled all over it. I may need to move to a black bathmat. Or get rid of the cats.
**Is it weird that even though I can totally hear the behind-us neighbor talking, I still feel like no one can hear me? In unrelated news, that was NOT me that just farted.
**I am usually a SUPER organized person, one who likes a separate manilla folder for every subsection of material, but I have become the WORST at keeping track of the PTA stuff. I'll write notes down on old grocery lists or on the backs of envelopes and really just not care that it's not all neatly packaged in one place. Passive aggressive much? This presidency is going to take its toll on me.
**I love freshly ironed clothes. I even enjoy ironing. I have a tendency to wait until the ironing pile is about a foot tall [wish I was exaggerating, I am not] before I get to it, but then I'll spend an hour or two ironing shirts and skirts and even shorts. It's a nice opportunity to watch tv and accomplish something. Plus, I then look AWESOME.
**I'm reading Kurt Vonnegut's A Man Without A Country and it's making me sad. What is wrong with this world? What is wrong with people? How do we, as humans, think it's o.k. to come up with more and better ways to kill each other? I can't believe that doing so is the point of our human existence.
**I also can't believe the shock I had when I read Breakfast of Champions in high school and saw Vonnegut's doodles of anuses and vaginas and the whole what's a beaver thing. Seriously. Blew my sheltered little mind.
**I don't think there's anywhere to go after that.