Why helllloww, fellow bloggers. As of late my life is, well, not very interesting.
Aunt Flo makes me sad/mad/uncomfortable and unable to forget what I don't have anymore. Basically, she's a downer and she likes to rub it in by making me most miserable than necessary by her visit.
We have finally moved... across the street. I like it much better. The master bedroom is 4x the size of the one we had and really, even though this is a two bedroom townhouse, I think its bigger than the four bedroom detached house we were in. One thing I am not particularly fond of.. and that's more of a worry reason.. is that it IS a townhouse and connected to one other unit... and they have a week old newborn. SO, my worry is that Spencer will be constantly waking up their baby with his ear-shattering wails of protest - subsequently, they will hate ME and possibly Garrett since he works with the lady who had the baby. After her medical leave is up though (in about 8 weeks) she will be sent off to "a" school and then they will be moving. It'll just be the Nelson's and us. Sad, ghost town! Anyway, I still have cleaning to do in the house across the street and a few more things to move out, but Garrett is working all this weekend, so we have to have it all finished by next Wednesday. Monday's task is to move the 55g fishtank - always funfunfun to do.
Errgghh, books! I just finished reading Mulch Ado About Nothing... eeeehh, it was okay. I'm glad I'm finished with it though. Onward to The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, I'm halfway finished with it now.
The raised-ness on my orchid tattoo has finally gone down to a respectable level and thankfully the itching is gone. I was just about read to scratch the thing off my arm. Sometimes you just have to think, "Is scratching worth the possible damage??" TOTALLY worth it, and no damage noted. Sanity reasons, really.
We have finally moved... across the street. I like it much better. The master bedroom is 4x the size of the one we had and really, even though this is a two bedroom townhouse, I think its bigger than the four bedroom detached house we were in. One thing I am not particularly fond of.. and that's more of a worry reason.. is that it IS a townhouse and connected to one other unit... and they have a week old newborn. SO, my worry is that Spencer will be constantly waking up their baby with his ear-shattering wails of protest - subsequently, they will hate ME and possibly Garrett since he works with the lady who had the baby. After her medical leave is up though (in about 8 weeks) she will be sent off to "a" school and then they will be moving. It'll just be the Nelson's and us. Sad, ghost town! Anyway, I still have cleaning to do in the house across the street and a few more things to move out, but Garrett is working all this weekend, so we have to have it all finished by next Wednesday. Monday's task is to move the 55g fishtank - always funfunfun to do.
Errgghh, books! I just finished reading Mulch Ado About Nothing... eeeehh, it was okay. I'm glad I'm finished with it though. Onward to The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, I'm halfway finished with it now.
The raised-ness on my orchid tattoo has finally gone down to a respectable level and thankfully the itching is gone. I was just about read to scratch the thing off my arm. Sometimes you just have to think, "Is scratching worth the possible damage??" TOTALLY worth it, and no damage noted. Sanity reasons, really.
Also, I have the absolute cutest child everrrrrrr. Hopefully he will have cute brothers and sisters one day.
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| Wearing his Daddy's Coast Guard hat. |
I also like to bug bugs... muahaaha. Funny me.
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| Mr. Ten-Lined June Beetle I harassed for a bit in the front yard. He wuz dum. (as per most June Bugs) |
The Narrative - "Waiting Room"
"Waiting in line,
passing the time reading four month old magazines.
The pale walls given life by the florescent lights,
exposing stains in the carpeting.
And sitting at my side this mockery of life:
a plastic plant strictly for tasteless decor.
No one makes a sound
but the sirens seeping through the space between the door and the floor.
Well there's nothing left to say.
The word's just collapse into
colorful waves in the spectrum of sound
and it's easy on the ears
and it's nice to hear
but it doesn't mean a thing.
No it doesn't mean a thing.
The silence breaks
like a small earthquake shattering the calm - it's my name.
The familiar scent of sterile instruments
filters out from inside the hallway.
Your chin falls towards your lap, you know you can't come back
Just one more thing to make this a little bit harder.
You'll wait for the turn out.
Until then a sense of doubt hangs in the air like grief in a funeral parlor.
No it doesn't mean,
No it doesn't mean,
No it doesn't mean a thing.
So tell me I'm okay with no areas of gray.
Tell me I can go, just don't say you don't know,
because there's nothing I can't take like these areas of gray,
so tell me I'm okay ."
passing the time reading four month old magazines.
The pale walls given life by the florescent lights,
exposing stains in the carpeting.
And sitting at my side this mockery of life:
a plastic plant strictly for tasteless decor.
No one makes a sound
but the sirens seeping through the space between the door and the floor.
Well there's nothing left to say.
The word's just collapse into
colorful waves in the spectrum of sound
and it's easy on the ears
and it's nice to hear
but it doesn't mean a thing.
No it doesn't mean a thing.
The silence breaks
like a small earthquake shattering the calm - it's my name.
The familiar scent of sterile instruments
filters out from inside the hallway.
Your chin falls towards your lap, you know you can't come back
Just one more thing to make this a little bit harder.
You'll wait for the turn out.
Until then a sense of doubt hangs in the air like grief in a funeral parlor.
No it doesn't mean,
No it doesn't mean,
No it doesn't mean a thing.
So tell me I'm okay with no areas of gray.
Tell me I can go, just don't say you don't know,
because there's nothing I can't take like these areas of gray,
so tell me I'm okay ."
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