Caterwauling

My upcoming move may not be as hard as I’d thought it would be — I am very good at breaking things and, thus, that means I don’t have to pack — and ultimately transport — them.

I was turning on my beloved black wrought-iron uplight with the blue shade today when one of the cats knocked over the table it was sitting on and *crash* — down went the lamp. My foot is bruised and bloody and the lampshade is in about 47 pieces, and let’s wave goodbye to the table while we’re at it. *sigh* This gives me a fabulous idea, however, to just break everything so I won’t feel obligated to transport it.

Oh, today’s commute was pure, unadulterated JOY.

(See Sarcasm. See Sarcasm Drip. Drip Drip.)

Sorry, almost hit you in the eye with my drippings. 😉

Anywho, 395? PARKING LOT.

See Dawn Flip.

Flip Flip.

Sorry, couldn’t resist!

And I realized something big — that I can handle life’s huge crises, but this series of small annoyances in my existence is Making. Me. INSANE. Insane, I tell you!

You know how it goes — you could indubitably handle X if Y weren’t true. Or if you could just make some progress on A and B, the occurrence of C like whipped cream on your partner a cake wouldn’t throw you into a bona fide frenzy (and not the good kind).

Caterwauling: Home of the sexual innuendo. Welcome back! LOL

So while I am very much tempted to stay in my apartment until the eviction is inevitable, perhaps I should consider moving sooner — I’ve got some fantastic friends who have volunteered to help, and that would ease up on the planned expenditure on movers. But if I can be honest, two things have been holding me back on making any progress on this front: Read the rest of this entry »

I literally flew back here to Home Sweet D.C. from the Motherland of Pittsburgh tonight — it took three hours to get from the family’s hacienda to my workplace (200 miles). It took another hour to go the remaining 35 miles, mostly because my brain shut the hell off.

I find that I have historically treated trips to see the family more like an obligation than a vacation, so I insisted on dragging the family all over creation this time, trying new foods and shopping in new places and all kinds of things that otherwise broke them out of their comfort zones.

Tomorrow’s Mom’s birthday, so I took her and my grandfather out last night to the Cheesecake Factory, where the food was The. Best. Seriously, I could have ridden the Godiva chocolate cheesecake to glory, but it was my Bang Bang Chicken and Shrimp (a Thai dish with curry, peanut and flaked coconut. Yum) that was the highlight of my entire life. The sauce was freaking amazing, and I told my mom that I suggest lube manufacturers quit making, well, lube, and bottle this stuff instead. And in true form, Mom replied that we’d give the best (well, you know) ever if we could use that sauce in the festivities. 😉

Ah, the decadence in general — I picked up a coupla bottles of port from Trax and will probably be back to add to my wine collection yet again next time I hit town. And my coffee collection (I picked up some bananas foster beans and some cranberry creme beans this time around). I just need to replenish my money supply — I have way too much fun when Mom and I are out hitting the town!

I have had this guilt hanging over my head, that I should (when I move) have my mom and grandfather move in with me. But this comes from the girl who turned 18 and moved the fuck out immediately if not sooner. I don’t know — they hate where they live and it’s truly horrible and they’d love to be closer to me, but I am one of those people who either has to live alone or needs her own wing (or, at least, her own bathroom). Not that I am rolling in money, mind you — I’m trying to figure out how I can squeeze some time/energy out of my day/week/life to take on a second job to fund this stupid move in the first place.

In completely unrelated news, it’s not only been a year since I’ve been sans Club Medicated (yay!) but it’s also been a year that I’ve quit smoking. w00t! In that year, I’ve had two cigarettes (in July) and damn, were they good. But I wasn’t inclined to pick up the habit again after that, so happy day.

Well, I’ve got 20 pounds of cat shit to drag to the curb, not to mention lovely little vomit landmines courtesy of the four-pawed wonders, so I’ve got a hot date with the carpet cleaner and a bottle of Tylenol. Oh, 6 a.m. comes entirely too quickly. …

On iTunes: Willy Porter, “You Stay Here”

A conversation I had yesterday:

Friend: We just got our son circumcized. Poor little guy — he was NOT a happy camper.

Moi: Think of it this way: Some woman is going to be very grateful to you someday for that!

So this is my first bona fide post back at Caterwauling — and my first WordPress entry.

It’s like moving back into an apartment that you left or getting back together with someone you’ve been missing, and you get that sort of cognitive dissonance — like, can you really start over again? I have no intention of picking up where I left off — tempting though it may be — but, rather, of continuing on the journey but in the place where I was happiest. Read the rest of this entry »