Pooped

I am wicked tired. I'm even too tired to find a funner way to say I've been burning the candle at both ends. Yesterday I was up at 7:30, went to the gym, did my catsitting duties, picked up a prescription refill, waxed (yee-ouch and it was a new DIY brazilian wax kit -- who in God's name would choose to do that at home without some Demerol and a ball gag is beyond me. I just did the inner thighs), met a dear friend and had a picnic on Cambridge Commons and a moment of grace unlike anything I've experienced in more than 10 years. Which is quite significant. And which I want to recognize now but write about later.

Then I met another friend downtown for shopping, only it turns out I have 18 dollars in the bank and I need to get cat food and another prescription and groceries and, ah, fuck me. I took some money out of my savings account, which I didn't want to do, but I wanted to ask for it from somebody else less. I do still feel like I'm on the right path and I am working so g-d hard and I trust that it's all going to be OK because I am going to make it OK.

Anyhoo, got home from shopping late as they are busing on part of the T and then went to Market Basket which at 8 on a Saturday night is perhaps only 75 percent as full of batshit crazy people as usual. But I got some nice blueberries! Then I came home and talked to OSB and made a big chicken sandwich and watched Thank You For Smoking, which was a fine flick. And then I went bed. To arise today at 7:45, get the paper, run, do laundry, do the dishes, change the catbox, wish happy father's day to PP who commented on the fact that it was his broke child calling and then when I said he was a great dad he said "great. they can put that on my headstone."

Then it was back to feed the cat again, put the laundry on the fire escape to dry, get ready for book club, pick the dry laundry out of the bushes after it blew off the fire escape, try to pick up at least one part of my apartment so it isn't all a dump, which makes me nutty, and worry worry worry about going to Martha's Vineyard for this conference on Thursday.

Oh and I put my air conditioners in. And had a wee pity party after I couldn't get the one in my bedroom to turn on. First it was the plug. Then it was the plastic knob, which broke last year but I taped it but no longer did it work. So then I was on to plastic knob number two. It fucking broke. Then I tried one of my heater knobs. Didn't work. I was hot, dirty, and pissed. Went to the basement and got a clothespin. It didn't work. Went to the dollar store and bought needle nose pliers (which, M-f'er, were MORE than a dollar). They didn't work either. Gave up. Went to book club. Ate lots of meat.

And now I'm home. Thank Christ and God and Our Lady of Guadelupe, I was able to turn on the A/C in the bedroom. Despite all my bitching I'm really A-OK and feeling fine. I'm quite excited by the freelance work that's come my way and I'm pondering a change and really feeling that I'm in a good space and headed towards a better one.

So peace out to you all and to the Dads, (like you, sir loins, whose daughter is lucky to have you.)
and you, PP, who doesn't read my blog, but who I admire and love tremendously and am so proud of and so grateful for, Happy Father's Day.

(and now I realize I did not make the same tribute to Mcmumsy on her special day. So the above is ditto for her. Plus extra kudos for enduring natural labor to phoot my ass out into the world.)