Gonna have you nekkid by the end of this song
Ugh Friday morning was so awful I thought I was going to die. Clearly, death was avoided and by Saturday night I was much better. Although, I went to go drink a sip of my sister’s wine and the smell of it gave me the shakes.
Saturday I went to look at apartments, I’ve seen some nice ones. In fact I found one I really like, a loft over by Northeastern. The owner/roommate wants someone to move in soon and I want to wait until the end of the month as I have already paid rent through the end of the month. I don’t like feeling the pressure of having to move immediately. He said that he liked me and my vibe (do I give off a vibe?) and that he would let me know how things go.
I have appointments for Wednesday and Thursday after work, I am sure that one of those places will be acceptable and I am all over Craig’s List in search of my new home. I am not going to worry because if I don’t find something that I love and can see myself enjoying I will crash with my grams until I do.
I will keep looking for somewhere to live and I am sure that everything will work out. In the instance that I end up in a place by myself, I am working on a table/chair set that had been in the family for 60 years. The chairs were my mother’s father’s mother’s (ie Great Grandma Some Girl) and the table was my mother’s mother’s (Grandma Some Girl). I grew up with the set in my house. They were painted brown over 30 years ago, and I think with house paint. Over the past few weeks, I have been stripping the wood so I can refinish with a stain that is more sympathetic to the material (and not ugly).
So right now, my back is aching, I have chemical burns on my feet and wrists, and I am only about half way done with the stripping, never mind the staining. Yet, I feel hugely accomplished. I love being crafty and doing diy projects. There is something so fulfilling about saying that you did this.
This post wasn’t really what I had planned, but these days nothing seems to be working the way I planned. I just wanted to show that I lead a normal life. The problem with the blog is that for every extraordinary moment that I share I have hundreds of mundane moments that would lull a reader into a snow white type of induced sleep. I think that people forget that I am just a girl.
For those of you who ask, and I find it odd that people care enough to type an email and press the send button, because that is more energy expended on my behalf than I am worth, no, not every waking hour is spent drunk or having sex.
Just most hours.