I am making my brief appearance in the xangasphere (using xanga-related words makes me feel uber trendy and tacky…so I’m doing it to annoy myself) for basically no reason other than to announce that October starts tomorrow and I’m actually pretty pleased about it. I forsee myself making feeble attempts to take walks around my neighborhood in the blustery, damp, angsty and upcoming fall weather.
I would make slightly less feeble attempts to do this, but I have to ask permission to take walks, and I have a fairly strong suspicion that my mum will respond with a resounding, “NO. You will not leave the postage-stamp yard.”
Hooray for life and the many freedoms afforded to me.
Hm. That aside, I will probably go upstairs now and make some soup before I go to bed. Then tomorrow I go to the vet with Domino again, and then to 104.9 the River to help with their fall fundraiser. Then I come home and perhaps put away my laundry that has been sitting rather patiently on my desk chair for several days now. I am so glad that my laundry has such infinite patience. I am even more glad about it when my parents or Chris starts to get irritable with me. I can turn to the laundry on my chair, or the mess of documents and CDs and photos on my desk and think lovingly, “my dear messes, I can’t ever get on your nerves. No matter how long I go without cleaning you up, you don’t seem to mind. The only one doing any minding in our relationship is me, and when I mind enough, I promise I will put you all in your proper places.”
I guess the problem with my interactions with other humans (and, occasionally, with some canines) is that they mind things as well. Especially the things that they want to blame on me. It makes me very sad indeed. Not that they mind. I get to mind that part, because if I try to make them mind my feelings, they get all bothered about it and blame the feelings on me…as if they are small, destructive animals and I came into the room claiming that they followed me home and demanding that I get to keep them and make other people responsible for the messes they keep making.
This metaphor had overextended itself and needs some time to regroup. And perhaps it will even partake of the soup that I haven’t gotten offline and made yet.