Dorothy Wood
02-18-2009, 03:18 AM
so I came home a little tipsy from a lovely dinner with some friends to a messy kitchen with an overflowing garbage can (I am the only one who takes out the trash because the alley is too "scary" for the other girls, but I've been boycotting lately.)
then I cleaned the absolutely filthy litter box, which I thought had been cleaned by my friend/roommate who owns the other cat in the house, but hadn't (I didn't realize she didn't do it because I'm all stuffed up and can't smell things) .
all the while, anger building. I tried to ignore the open cupboards and garbage can, but I couldn't, so I slammed them all shut and pulled out the garbage bag and straightened and replaced it with a new one (I will probably take it out tomorrow and ruin my boycott...again).
then, I look in my room, and there's this filthy cardboard portfolio package thing from my dad. ON MY BED. dirty cardboard that's been dragged across the country and plopped down on my sheets where I fucking sleep by a "well-meaning" roommate. what. the. fuck.
:mad::mad::mad:
anyway, the package was filled with drawings my mom did in 1978/79, and some old kid art I did when I was little. some old ice capades pennants (smurfs, snorks, teddy ruxpin, and more! man, did I ever love the ice capades), a fuckin "just say no" button (which rules), some old posters I had when I was a tot. and this paper ice cream cone thing from 1st grade where you got a scoop for every 4 books you read. jesus, that thing...just like, slapped the back of my head as soon as I saw it, and jostled out such vivid memories of the pride I had...how much I must have stared at it as a kid to have it so burned into my mind?
and then I burst into tears for about 30 seconds. and then I was fine. weird. it's hard to be upset when there's snorks and paper ice cream around.
then I cleaned the absolutely filthy litter box, which I thought had been cleaned by my friend/roommate who owns the other cat in the house, but hadn't (I didn't realize she didn't do it because I'm all stuffed up and can't smell things) .
all the while, anger building. I tried to ignore the open cupboards and garbage can, but I couldn't, so I slammed them all shut and pulled out the garbage bag and straightened and replaced it with a new one (I will probably take it out tomorrow and ruin my boycott...again).
then, I look in my room, and there's this filthy cardboard portfolio package thing from my dad. ON MY BED. dirty cardboard that's been dragged across the country and plopped down on my sheets where I fucking sleep by a "well-meaning" roommate. what. the. fuck.
:mad::mad::mad:
anyway, the package was filled with drawings my mom did in 1978/79, and some old kid art I did when I was little. some old ice capades pennants (smurfs, snorks, teddy ruxpin, and more! man, did I ever love the ice capades), a fuckin "just say no" button (which rules), some old posters I had when I was a tot. and this paper ice cream cone thing from 1st grade where you got a scoop for every 4 books you read. jesus, that thing...just like, slapped the back of my head as soon as I saw it, and jostled out such vivid memories of the pride I had...how much I must have stared at it as a kid to have it so burned into my mind?
and then I burst into tears for about 30 seconds. and then I was fine. weird. it's hard to be upset when there's snorks and paper ice cream around.