One thing I’m surprised about is how much there always is to do. Because, I have to tell you, except for when he was trying to impress a girl, the Butcher didn’t do all that much around the house. But someone else half-assed sweeping and half-assed cleaning out the litter box is an immense improvement over me having to do it.
If I ever have money, I will happily pay someone else to clean my house.
It just feels like so much to be aware of and responsible for. And, my god, if I can find the trimmer and figure out how to use it, I’m going to. The yard so needs it.
I feel like I’m doing well, but then this morning I realized that the Professor and I aren’t going to have a long lunch in my office ever again and I just felt so sad.
What can you do but get used to it?
It’s the year of things I feel ambiguous about. I want the people I love to have rich, full lives of wonderfulness. I don’t want to be left behind.
I want to put on “Going to California” and mope about it, but, if you listen to the song even twice in a row, it becomes painfully obvious that it’s incredibly stupid. Like the kind of dumbfucking stupid that makes you start to question whether Led Zeppelin is even a good band. Don’t ruin Led Zeppelin for me, Led Zeppelin!
At least all the animals want to cuddle with me. That part’s nice.
Tiny Cat Pants 