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The movers are here.

I am still shocked at what was under my couch…
17 rawhides buried by my creatures.
2 pairs of slippers.
a broken wine glass????
7 tennis balls (creatures again)
dust
dust
dirt
bottle of lotion.
panties.
magazine (nothing good Keith)
my diary. hehe.

One of the movers smells like a rotten cheeseburger and its making me nauseous.

I tossed about 5,000 things into my bedroom this morning thinking I would throw stuff out and go through things… Not sure the door will open.

Where did all this crap come from?

3 glasses of cheap pink sweet wine into my night.

11 boxes packed.

8 bags of trashed hauled to the curb.

Two sets of mattresses in the hallway ready to be taken to the truck.

I am almost 35. Why am I dragging around so much crap? Seriously. We just moved a half of a year ago and I have boxes that are unopened and nothing really missing from my daily trek through life.

My Mother’s condition worsens.

My financial condition worsens.

My relationship remains stable and loving but in a holding pattern…

Its 9 freakin thirty and the movers will be here in 11.5 hours.

I am moving back from the burbs where I can escape my neighbors and friends at all times. I will be forced to see them all on a freakin daily basis. The grocery store. The dogpark. The f*cking coffee house.

I will be doing my duty as a child. I will be saving for a house and more freedom. I will be going to school.

Did I mention that I have decided to become a Veterinarian? Thats right. The school that is more difficult to get into than medical school. No stress. Really.

Found a stash of tomato boxes left over from the farmers market. Good for picture frames and DVD’s.

I won’t be able to escape my friends.

My friends will be closer.

My f*cking shrink will be 5 blocks away.

My dogs will love going for runs over the bridge and around the monuments. They will miss the yard but I think they would rather be with me while I trudge through a workout than in a yard alone while I cook dinner.

I will be closer to my Grandparents and the baby.

I won’t be able to escape my Grandparents and the baby.

I should probably shut up and finish packing.

I just tossed every magazine I own, all clothing I don’t love and books I will never read.
Thank you Oprah.

Dear vibrator,

As long as I keep you on a steady diet of duracell’s you are always so good to me.

You never stand me up.
You never make me mad.
You are there for me day or night.
You dont care if I have kids or not.
You dont mind cellulite. (not that I have any… hehe).
You ALWAYS get me off.
You know how to find my g-spot and your little rabbit knows just what to do with my clit. Such a lovely combination. A combo more men should learn.
If I don’t pay for anything or call for a month you dont care.
Sometimes we even have threesomes and you dont get jealous of my boyfriend (former boyfriend… whatever).
If I decide to replace you, there is no whining or complaining.

If only you could get a job and help with the bills.

Love forever,

Blueseaglass

One. the only thing that makes me vomit (other than too much drink) is spit. The sight of it. The idea of it. Even speaking about it. If I think of it for more than a minute I will vomit.

Two. I am fascinated with boils and am actually sad that I have never had one.

Three. When I am home alone I leave the tv on in the background because I get freaked out.

Four. I was a talented singer growing up and starred in several musicals. My mother hired a voice coach and she encouraged me to become a professional. Just wasn’t my thing. The funny thing is my boyfriend M. sings like a lark and has sparked his career in film from his voice, and I have never told him this fact about me. Its his thing now.

Five. My son has freckles in matching spots on both sides of his body. 8 of them. Its like he is a freckle mirror.

Six. I have an obsession with pickled things. Pickled okra, pickles, pickled asparagus, but Pickled green tomatoes are my favorite. I even drink the juice at the end of the jar.

Seven. I can not stop reading books about leper colonies in Hawaii.

I am happy to report that all spots (save the one big one we call herman) from hypertensive retinopathy (aka. bloody eyeballs) have dissapated.

I seem to have chilled out more and the stress that was making my blood vessels burst is gone.

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