I was telling the Professor at lunch yesterday, after she asked me how the manuscript was going, that I’m afraid I’m becoming boring, because that’s all I talk about. And I was just sitting here thinking about what I should blog about and I was like, ugh, dog walking, tv watching, intestinal issues of my own doing, songs I like, things I feel passionately about.
I’ve got nothing.
I could tell you about how the Butcher and I have been pissed at the cats, thinking they were peeing somewhere they shouldn’t be, only to discover it was a pair of my socks stinking up the whole house.
But that’s all I’ve got going on.
It’s good to have boring moments, I guess, but damn. I am boring lately.
Oh, but I will tell you all a sad thing. Remember when I thought I saw a ghost in my back yard? And, on my list of reasons it wasn’t just some neighbor guy is that I live in a predominately black neighborhood and so know there are no white guys that age that live around here?
Well, right before Easter–and if you know how my Easter went, you can understand how this slipped off my radar–I saw him again, jogging on Lloyd. He’s someone’s dad, who doesn’t live here but visits. Seemingly undead. Um, not dead.
So, that was disappointing.