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Mar. 2nd, 2005 10:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thejunipertreeLike a complete ass, I have managed to (possibly) ruin my vacuum by running over the cord while I was cleaning the living room rug. This does not bode well, which is entirely sucky because I quite like my vacuum cleaner. Even if I didn't like it, I don't have the money to buy a brand new one, those bitches are very expensive.
I had just finished menacing Howard Phillip, one of the ferrets, through the bars of his cage with the sucky-hose extension (something he loves), when I ran over the cord in a true Tara-style haze. Typical.
Tonight was spent cleaning the apartment. I rearranged the kitchen and cleaned up the living room. The dining table has been cleared off and polished, something I haven't been able to do in some time. I think now that my bedroom and the bathroom are 90% finished being redone, I'm going to start on the kitchen. I had plans this evening of dying the wretched white curtains I currently have hanging up, but I've run out of steam.
Unfortunately, I've got several bags of trash that still need to be taken out to the dumpster. And I'm not up for it. One, I'm tired and this is going to be a multi-trip trip. Two, the parking lot is icy. Three, my slide on platforms are upstairs in the Engineer's apartment and I'm far too lazy to retrieve them (and I'm not buckling on shit just to take out trash). And four, it's fucking cold outside.
I did pile it all by the front door, so I reckon I'll be forced to do this. My brother's already asleep, so I can't even ask him for assistance. Not that he could tear himself away from the siren lure of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, which he has been playing for several days now.
Pretty soon, I think I'll be ready to start moving my own furniture into the apartment and re-doing the living room. O, eight-foot long leopard-print couch, how I have missed thee!
It'll also be nice to have new people over and not have them look at me funny because of the tiger and plaid decor. Granted, I would rather my mother still be alive and my hand not forced to do all of this. None of that can be altered, however. And I'm making the best of a shitty situation. So I keep telling myself.
I've got plans for eBaying quite a lot of her leftover belongings, like her rather sprawling collection of Boyd's bears. And the Native American collector plates (thankfully, not on display) and those thrice-damned bride dolls (also, thankfuckinggod, not on display). But, the times I've checked the general selling market for those sorts of things, I haven't come up with very promising results. I'll Freecycle it all, if I have to, but I would really rather get something for them. She paid a lot of money for that crap and it burns to think of just giving it away.
Damn. That reminds me.
A friend of hers called me on Sunday, to see how I was holding up, but I was at Borders when she called and I told her I'd call her back on Monday night. It's now late Wednesday night and I never called.
Wifty, air-headed mess. It gets worse every day.
I had just finished menacing Howard Phillip, one of the ferrets, through the bars of his cage with the sucky-hose extension (something he loves), when I ran over the cord in a true Tara-style haze. Typical.
Tonight was spent cleaning the apartment. I rearranged the kitchen and cleaned up the living room. The dining table has been cleared off and polished, something I haven't been able to do in some time. I think now that my bedroom and the bathroom are 90% finished being redone, I'm going to start on the kitchen. I had plans this evening of dying the wretched white curtains I currently have hanging up, but I've run out of steam.
Unfortunately, I've got several bags of trash that still need to be taken out to the dumpster. And I'm not up for it. One, I'm tired and this is going to be a multi-trip trip. Two, the parking lot is icy. Three, my slide on platforms are upstairs in the Engineer's apartment and I'm far too lazy to retrieve them (and I'm not buckling on shit just to take out trash). And four, it's fucking cold outside.
I did pile it all by the front door, so I reckon I'll be forced to do this. My brother's already asleep, so I can't even ask him for assistance. Not that he could tear himself away from the siren lure of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, which he has been playing for several days now.
Pretty soon, I think I'll be ready to start moving my own furniture into the apartment and re-doing the living room. O, eight-foot long leopard-print couch, how I have missed thee!
It'll also be nice to have new people over and not have them look at me funny because of the tiger and plaid decor. Granted, I would rather my mother still be alive and my hand not forced to do all of this. None of that can be altered, however. And I'm making the best of a shitty situation. So I keep telling myself.
I've got plans for eBaying quite a lot of her leftover belongings, like her rather sprawling collection of Boyd's bears. And the Native American collector plates (thankfully, not on display) and those thrice-damned bride dolls (also, thankfuckinggod, not on display). But, the times I've checked the general selling market for those sorts of things, I haven't come up with very promising results. I'll Freecycle it all, if I have to, but I would really rather get something for them. She paid a lot of money for that crap and it burns to think of just giving it away.
Damn. That reminds me.
A friend of hers called me on Sunday, to see how I was holding up, but I was at Borders when she called and I told her I'd call her back on Monday night. It's now late Wednesday night and I never called.
Wifty, air-headed mess. It gets worse every day.
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-03 06:00 pm (UTC)