First off, I would like to apologize to Baxter (and to the public) and retract my claim that I am allergic to cat urine. Every time I make an official declaration here, on my internet space, it is promptly proven to be false. Baxter's incessant watering of my laundry is not what was making me sick. We (Mom) indeed found mold on the inside of my air vents. Harsh mold. Black, science experiment mold. And it was blowing right down on me in the night! It's amazing I'm still alive.
Sorry Baxter. It's not you, it's me. My room is already half painted a kind of icky periwinkle color that Mom says looked like the greenish grey I had asked for under the harsh fluorescent lights of our friendly neighborhood Lowes. I'm going to use some of my SCAD Magic, "I got an 'A' in color mixing" skills to see if I can't whip up a less offensive color. Good thing I went to college.
In other news, yesterday was a cold and rainy day. I spent my morning at the restaurant, barking out orders and shivering as I stood over the poorly placed air vents in the floor under my counter. I then trekked through the rain, dancing over the slippery cobblestones of downtown, and seeking refuge in my car who has still yet to be noticed by The Man. Any day now he's going to catch on and fine me for weeks of free parking. I battled the 3 o'clock, West Ashley traffic. Headlights blinding my eyes and wipers vibrating in my eardrums. I slogged through the muddy parking lot, grabbed little Finn, and again found shelter in my warm car. Again through the traffic, the sirens, the rain. Finn slept peacefully as I made our way home. I thought of the warmth of indoors and the quiet lull of the rain on the windows as Finn and I curled up under a blanket to watch his favorite cartoons. I pulled into the driveway, woke up the little dickens, and we ran through the rain to the front door and that's when we realized. We had no key. Cue the 6 year old's tantrum and the soggy babysitter's short-fused tolerance of any of it anymore.
So we wound up here.
It was quite interesting to watch actually. Mom and Dad are so good with kids. Where did they learn how to do that? Surely it wasn't from Ellen and me. I don't remember being conned into things or taught lessons playing games. I don't remember having no say in life. But I guess I didn't and I still came out happy. How'd they do that?
In other really riveting news, I've got my first black eye!! Alright, maybe it's a highly unnoticeable little purple smudge where my naturally purplish underye circles already sit. But it is there! It really hurts. It even hurts to raise my eyebrows! And you know what happened?
Buddy punched me in face!
I find my mini-black eye exciting because I can now make up a story as to the bruise's origin. Girls don't often have face bruises. I need a tough girl story. Hang gliding accident? Roller derby? I do think there's something exciting about being the victor of a bar fight.
"First time I saw her in a fight I knew she was the one for me."
Anyways, in the spirit of all my blog declarations being made false, I would like to state that I will NEVER have a big chunk of land for farm animals and gardening. I will DEFINITELY eat my vegetables. Oh oh! I will NEVER go on a cross country road trip in an old truck that Ari converted to run off of vegetable oil.
This is like a magical power. I've got to really give this a think.
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