It sorta makes me proud Malik B told me I look like I'm celibate. Perhaps "proud" isn't the right word. But.. yeah. I'm not celibate, I'm a groovy guy.
My car continues to leave pools of green wherever I pause. I swear, I really will get it to the vet this week. Or maybe early next week.. Or maybe I kinda like sullying asphalt. Not the same level of toxicity as the Glitter Ninja. But I still get to lay stain in my wake.
I'm all achey from lifting/moving/assembling some new shelves. I realized I'd need a sturdier surface than I have around here for my new fish tank, and while browsing the shelves at Tarzhey I was struck by the thought that.. well.. half of my stuff is still lying around in boxes. And I still continue to accumulate stuff, it just goes on top of the boxes. Or sometimes into other boxes. It's not working out well, having so much stuff around that I don't give any thought to, it just sucks up so much space. I don't bother thinking about ways to fill out the apartment in a more livable manner, because it's already full of cardboard boxes. I don't feel comfortable leaving it in storage-stasis at my mom's.. not because it's all special-super-secret, but because I simply don't trust her box caretaking skills. There was a basement flooding incident not *too* long ago, and she still keeps stuff all over the floor there. Pallets leaning against the wall, boxes on cement floor. No.
I'd like to sleep deeply and dream long and hard tonight.. tomorrow menaces me with more work.