Recently
I had a small get-together at my house so my family and drinking buddies could finally see it. It was gratifying to have people compliment my decorating style. (As opposed to being married to someone who constantly ranked on it and called it tacky. As if we didn’t live in a MOTHERFREAKING TRAILER.) (Okay, I’m going to quit saying stuff about my former marriage now. I swear, I don’t even think about it very often, but then once in a while, something will bring it up.)
I got everyone hooked on DDR and Karaoke Revolution, which is good. Except that PlayStation doesn’t give commissions. And the only Karaoke Revolution games they sell at Best Buy anymore are the country music ones. But that’s what eBay’s for, right?
We made the dining room into a spare living room for the sake of the party. Now, however, I like it that way. We have two living rooms, back to back. Or, I guess you could say, a living room and a den. I like to sit in the den when I’m not watching TV. We moved the dining set to the breakfast nook. If I described how the living room/den look, with two couches and a sectional all in close proximity, it would sound very bizarre. But when I walk into the house it looks nice. Like it has pretty good feng shui. Not that I practice that. But, hey, I feel vibes like everybody else.
Also, Tiffany said that the placement of my bedroom means I’ll make more money soon. Awesome.
I mowed the lawn last night, but not until after Josh and I poured gasoline all over the grass, by accident. I was a little worried that, when I mowed over that spot, the lawnmower would explode. Sometimes I’m not too clear on the chemistry and physical science, I admit. I have a weed-eater, but I don’t yet know how to use it, so it’s waiting in the garage while runners grow around the swing set that the sellers left behind. (That Helen was supposed to pick up, but she didn’t. Helen! Come get this swing set!) I’m scared that if I try to work the weed-eater by myself, I’ll cut off my hand. Yes, I could always just read the instructions first. But, instead, I’m going to wait for my boyfriend to come over this weekend. Showing me how to work the mower and the weed-eater and the garage door makes him happy. It makes him feel helpful, and that is good.
Also, I am going to buy an electric hedge trimmer this weekend. It looks like a little chainsaw. Maybe I should also buy a hockey mask.
A Dream for Rose Only
Last night, among many other things, I dreamed I walked into a school or something, and a tiger with whom I was formally on good terms growled at me. I hoped it was because I had a bag of McDonald’s in my hand, and not because he had lost trust in me and now wanted to kill me.
I set the bag down on the school nurse’s counter and told her my theory. Saying it aloud made the tiger comply; he walked up and let me pet his grizzled head. Then I picked him up and held him to my chest, and he was a baby who tried to suckle through my shirt. I asked the nurse for a pacifier but she only had a milk bottle. I asked her for extra milk to top it off, but very soon the tiger/baby held the bottle at the proper milk-dispensing angle and fell asleep in my arms.
(I used to dream all the time about tigers escaping the zoo and walking the streets, keeping me terrified in my dad’s house. I guess I’m over that now.)
