I want you to get your sunglasses out so you can handle all the white Ima throw at you, but it snowed here overnight.
I know! Lily and I just hope we can dig out from under it.
I have American spirit, not the cigarettes, and I know I can rebuild.
Allegedly the tree guy is coming this week to pare back m’pear tree, which as you can see from the photo above got all screwed up last summer. Turns out you gotta trim your fruit trees every year, a thing no one TOLD me, so last year the pears broke a lot of the branches and what a pain in my patoot that pear tree is. I love it, though. I love the blossoms on it and the pears you can’t eat. I don’t love the hornets but I’m sure there’s some ecological reason we have to have hornets.
Why we gotta have fleas, though? As you can imagine, fleas are a hot topic in this house. I spend about $120 a month on flea prevention. I buy Revolution.
Don’tcha know, they’re talking about a Revolution and it sounds like a whisper.
If you didn’t drive around in college in your Toyota Corona with this Tracy Chapman album constantly playing on your tape deck perhaps this joke is lost on you. And yes, there WAS a Toyota CORONA.
There was this one guy I’d see at various bars and parties and he was hilarious and I forget why I never dated him. I do know that for most of the time I saw him I had a boyfriend who was an archeology major, and he was always off on digs and this funny guy always called my boyfriend, “The guy who likes dirt better than you.”
Anyway, I pulled up to some house party once and there was that funny guy. He took a look at my brown Toyota Corona and he was all, “Hey, June, nice family wagon.”
Why on earth didn’t I date that guy? Why’d I stick with Middle Earth dude, always digging the ground somewhere else?
I always pick the wrong men.
Do you know when I woulda been a more interesting blogger? Is back then. Oh, lord, you guys, every day was different. There was always drama, a new man around every corner, tearful breakups, passionate reunions, secret flirtations.
I’ve heard if you have borderline personality disorder or histrionic personality disorder you can grow out of them. Some personality disorders are forever, but some you age out of sometimes. I’ve never been diagnosed with either BPD or HPD but signs point to maybe I had a smidgen of them when I was younger. I think I aged out. Now I’ve grown sort of boring and stable.
It just sorta crept up on me.
I’ve been in the same job for 10 years. My credit score is close to 800. I broke up with someone in 2015 and just never took up with another relationship. For the last year, I cook dinner every night. Using salt and a garlic press and a vegetable streamer and shit.
Who even am I? I used to drop classes to get the refund so I could buy earrings. (To be fair, the time I did that, they were fabulous earrings. They looked like strands of DNA with multiple-colored big beads. Do not regret.)
Now I don’t even WEAR earrings cause they hurt m’ears. I mean.
Anyway, my insides are quieter and I guess that’s good for me but I’m telling you, had blogging been a thing in 1985, I’d have a bigger audience. You’d all make popcorn before each entry. It wouldn’t be, “Here’s where Lily slept” it’d be “I woke up in Puerto Rico today cause I felt like it.”
I kind of miss impulsive old me.
But also impulsive old me would forget to register for college, so.
Anyway, I gotta go. Nonimpulsive NEW me signs in for work every day on the dot at 8:30. This week I’ve been “coming in” early because I’ve been working in this large, painstaking project I get a few times a year.
Seriously, who even am I? Ugh. Can I regain my fun disorders? Is there a pill I can take or a rejuvenating cream?