(no subject)
I haven't written in a long time. I was just distracted by something shiny outside and I went to look at it, it was a pepsi liter bottle full of what appeared to be someone's tobacco spittings. I was pretty disgusted but I'm not a huge fan of random garbage in front of my house, so I picked it up all tweezer-like and put it in my trashcan. But now it's in my trashcan, where it will remain for the next 6 days until the trash comes again. I'll probably think about it a little bit for the next 6 days. Clearly, I need a hobby, or I have OCD, or both.
I haven't been up to much - it's not that my life doesn't warrant discussion, I'm sure it does - but I just haven't been up to anything really. Well, a few things. I drank too many margaritas a few weeks ago and paraded around in a tophat, that's something. I went to Arizona. I ate Havarti cheese. I watched Star Wars for the first time. I made sure the plants I planted last year are all coming back up because perennials are the new black. I made fun of dillywhacks with my gymnastics friends.
I also worked on staining our new nightstands, but one is darker than the other one. And this throws my mind into a whirlwind like "I have to fix this. How do I fix this? I have to ask dad. I have to get supplies. Then I have to sit there and spend time to fix it. I need more stain. The first stain was chunky. How am I going to do this?" It's like I expect something to be perfect the first time I try and then when it doesn't I'm exhausted by the sheer thought of making it right. And it's idiotic, I know. See my comment above about needing a hobby.
I haven't been up to much - it's not that my life doesn't warrant discussion, I'm sure it does - but I just haven't been up to anything really. Well, a few things. I drank too many margaritas a few weeks ago and paraded around in a tophat, that's something. I went to Arizona. I ate Havarti cheese. I watched Star Wars for the first time. I made sure the plants I planted last year are all coming back up because perennials are the new black. I made fun of dillywhacks with my gymnastics friends.
I also worked on staining our new nightstands, but one is darker than the other one. And this throws my mind into a whirlwind like "I have to fix this. How do I fix this? I have to ask dad. I have to get supplies. Then I have to sit there and spend time to fix it. I need more stain. The first stain was chunky. How am I going to do this?" It's like I expect something to be perfect the first time I try and then when it doesn't I'm exhausted by the sheer thought of making it right. And it's idiotic, I know. See my comment above about needing a hobby.