(no subject)
Today has really been a get my life into order day. After a morning at the gym and a stomach full of Chinese dumplings, I broke in the new old lawnmower. I was surprised at just how little grass there is in the yard. Its almost all weed. It looks half decent now; almost like an actual yard when viewed from the street. The landlord next door came over to both thank and chide me. A thank you for stepping up and cleaning house; a scolding for "giving into my slumlord." Can you write $1550 checks monthly to a slumlord?
The rest of this afternoon was spent cleaning the apartment. I had a week's worth of dishes waiting for me (plumbing issues recently resolved), half a fridge of unwanted or decaying food; a cat's worth of stray hair to sweep up. The main focus was moving a lot of the stuff from my tiny half bedroom to the rest of the house to liven up the space.
This tiny room hosts my record collection, my dj equipment, a desk and most of my possessions. Funny how I was essentially hiding most of my life in this tiny room, giving Erika the run of the rest of the house. Now that I've spread everything out, the house is just a little less depressing. Oddly enough, the room that seems the most tied together -- my bedroom -- is the room I spend the least amount of time in.
The thing that's vexing me the most is these two framed photographs:
My mom participated in a "Cats of Lakeway Estates" calender shoot last year and, for a laugh I suppose, sent me the evidence. The frames are really nice; the photos float in a space of glass around a rich wood frame. But, come on... they're crazy photos of my mom and a dead cat. When we were packing two weeks ago, she took one of Erika's paintings off of the wall and put the photo of Tiger up. If I keep the photo there, I would put the photo of mom and Tiger on the adjacent wall for symmetry. But my feeling is that any woman who comes into this house would see these images first... and might get a... unfavorable impression of me.
Guidance please.
I've been listening to this mix while writing this:
Dubstep
I've heard of dubstep in recent years, but never heard it. This shit is totally up my alley. So grimey. I love it.
And, yes.. that's how I look when I don't put any product in my hair.
The rest of this afternoon was spent cleaning the apartment. I had a week's worth of dishes waiting for me (plumbing issues recently resolved), half a fridge of unwanted or decaying food; a cat's worth of stray hair to sweep up. The main focus was moving a lot of the stuff from my tiny half bedroom to the rest of the house to liven up the space.
This tiny room hosts my record collection, my dj equipment, a desk and most of my possessions. Funny how I was essentially hiding most of my life in this tiny room, giving Erika the run of the rest of the house. Now that I've spread everything out, the house is just a little less depressing. Oddly enough, the room that seems the most tied together -- my bedroom -- is the room I spend the least amount of time in.
The thing that's vexing me the most is these two framed photographs:
My mom participated in a "Cats of Lakeway Estates" calender shoot last year and, for a laugh I suppose, sent me the evidence. The frames are really nice; the photos float in a space of glass around a rich wood frame. But, come on... they're crazy photos of my mom and a dead cat. When we were packing two weeks ago, she took one of Erika's paintings off of the wall and put the photo of Tiger up. If I keep the photo there, I would put the photo of mom and Tiger on the adjacent wall for symmetry. But my feeling is that any woman who comes into this house would see these images first... and might get a... unfavorable impression of me.
Guidance please.
I've been listening to this mix while writing this:
Dubstep
I've heard of dubstep in recent years, but never heard it. This shit is totally up my alley. So grimey. I love it.
And, yes.. that's how I look when I don't put any product in my hair.