Unexpectedly, a chitten.
So, things are still the same, pretty much.
By this I mean that I'm still feeling a bit fat and useless because I'm not a nut-brown lath-thin Hawai'ian goddess. Also I'm not entirely sold on my tentacles (which are only four months in, so very young in the calender of dreadlocks and {I know} need more time to sort their shit out.) I suppose what is really getting to me the most right now is.... this house.
This is a good house with ample space. But K's mother is a bit of a horder and also has lupus, and
a 15y old son and a 27y old daughter - neither of whomlp2;ty÷“='//////////=''''']==============\;'p['''';[[[p[[[[[;'p[[ (ah, hello Flint) neither of whom really do anything around the house. Bodie is scarcely capable of clearing up after himself and leaves a trail of clothes, food wrappers and random stuff in his wake. Presly has issues unloading the dishwasher and seems to think that rinsing her bowl out after eating porridge or sweeping the floor once a week is all she need do. It drives me a little bit crazy because whilst I'm not a neat-freak, there is a certain level of mostly-tidy-and-not-a-biohazard that I require in my environment.
Nobody does anything here: the bin is full - does anyone empty it? No. They stack more things on top of it and when that gets impossible they just find a box or bag and start using that. Yes, of course I sound immensely petty complaining about this shit. However, yesterday I scrubbed out a kitchen cupboard that was full of melted sugar and spiders. It had apparently been like that since before Christmas. Then there was the other cupboard that was full of ten billion tupperware lids - and no boxes. WTF? No one DOES anything about this crap, they just ignore it and add to the issue. The laundry room (which contains a washer that doesn't work - the working one's in the garage) is FULL of laundry. Clean and dirty all piled up in a huge hand-grenade of exploded clothes, towels, bedding and fuck knows what. Aaarrrggghhh.
Anyway, I'm tired of bitching now, what I want to write about is Flint. The other day I went out to buy some fabric dye. This didn't happen. Instead I was taken to a local cafe that has gigantic sized portions of food. Witness: I have a plate full of a 3-egg omelet and hashbrowns. Those pancakes? They're my 'side order' that come with. That's not a side order that's a whole extra day's worth of food!
Some when during this, K's mother suggested going to the local animal shelter and seeing if any critter caught my eye. I said yes; I already have a goat so am already lumbered with the whole animal-transportation-issue when I move back to the UK. This is how I got Flint.
Full name: Captain James Flint. (Can you tell I've been watching Black Sails?) His first family named him Udon, but that's stupid, he's not a noodle he's a chitten. He's very small, but has a ridiculously long tail and huge paws, so we figure by the time he's grown he'll be pretty big. The day we got him he was doped up from being fixed, so was fearless and mental. The next day he hid under the bed and nested on the router. Day three he came out. Now...
Lastly, I've dyed my tentacles blue in an effort to stop being vexed with them. They are very very blue. (Erm, and yes, the bed in our room is a bunk bed. At least the chitten likes it...)
By this I mean that I'm still feeling a bit fat and useless because I'm not a nut-brown lath-thin Hawai'ian goddess. Also I'm not entirely sold on my tentacles (which are only four months in, so very young in the calender of dreadlocks and {I know} need more time to sort their shit out.) I suppose what is really getting to me the most right now is.... this house.
This is a good house with ample space. But K's mother is a bit of a horder and also has lupus, and
a 15y old son and a 27y old daughter - neither of whomlp2;ty÷“='//////////=''''']==============\;'p['''';[[[p[[[[[;'p[[ (ah, hello Flint) neither of whom really do anything around the house. Bodie is scarcely capable of clearing up after himself and leaves a trail of clothes, food wrappers and random stuff in his wake. Presly has issues unloading the dishwasher and seems to think that rinsing her bowl out after eating porridge or sweeping the floor once a week is all she need do. It drives me a little bit crazy because whilst I'm not a neat-freak, there is a certain level of mostly-tidy-and-not-a-biohazard that I require in my environment.
Nobody does anything here: the bin is full - does anyone empty it? No. They stack more things on top of it and when that gets impossible they just find a box or bag and start using that. Yes, of course I sound immensely petty complaining about this shit. However, yesterday I scrubbed out a kitchen cupboard that was full of melted sugar and spiders. It had apparently been like that since before Christmas. Then there was the other cupboard that was full of ten billion tupperware lids - and no boxes. WTF? No one DOES anything about this crap, they just ignore it and add to the issue. The laundry room (which contains a washer that doesn't work - the working one's in the garage) is FULL of laundry. Clean and dirty all piled up in a huge hand-grenade of exploded clothes, towels, bedding and fuck knows what. Aaarrrggghhh.
Anyway, I'm tired of bitching now, what I want to write about is Flint. The other day I went out to buy some fabric dye. This didn't happen. Instead I was taken to a local cafe that has gigantic sized portions of food. Witness: I have a plate full of a 3-egg omelet and hashbrowns. Those pancakes? They're my 'side order' that come with. That's not a side order that's a whole extra day's worth of food!
Some when during this, K's mother suggested going to the local animal shelter and seeing if any critter caught my eye. I said yes; I already have a goat so am already lumbered with the whole animal-transportation-issue when I move back to the UK. This is how I got Flint.
Full name: Captain James Flint. (Can you tell I've been watching Black Sails?) His first family named him Udon, but that's stupid, he's not a noodle he's a chitten. He's very small, but has a ridiculously long tail and huge paws, so we figure by the time he's grown he'll be pretty big. The day we got him he was doped up from being fixed, so was fearless and mental. The next day he hid under the bed and nested on the router. Day three he came out. Now...
Lastly, I've dyed my tentacles blue in an effort to stop being vexed with them. They are very very blue. (Erm, and yes, the bed in our room is a bunk bed. At least the chitten likes it...)