Pretty Sure This Is Why I'm Not Dating Anyone
Current Song: "Lloyd, I'm Ready To Be Heartbroken" -- Camera Obscura
This house is trashed and I really need to do something about it, but I lack the capacity to care right now. As it's nearly one in the morning, and also I'm a lazy, lazy bastard. Mostly the living room needs to be neatened up by putting the cat carrier away and straightening out the large deposits of mail all over the room. Remember when I had that apartment in Vancouver and my kitchen table was covered in two years' worth of mail because I never throw anything away? And how instead of approaching the problem rationally I bought power tools and built a decorative screen to block it from sight? I miss that screen; it came out quite well. But the point is, my mail problem approaches my laundry problem in sheer scope of ridiculousness and signs of mental illness.
Speaking of which, my laundry problem is quite out of hand. As is the issue of not having a TV in the living room, or a table anywhere, so I eat everything in my bedroom and now my desk and the floor around my bed are hosts to many, many boxes, wrappers, shreds of packaging, etc. This is also why I don't host parties at home and I never invite anyone over.
Also, there are two partially-filled bottles of liquor and an empty wine bottle in my sightline as I write this. If I'm ever murdered and the detectives sort through my things to get an idea of what was going on in my life, they're going to have some sad stories.
[Special addendum to how sad my life is: right now, I can see 13 opened mail envelopes in places around the room. And 18 packages/partial packages of food or beverages and/or dishes. And nine TV-on-DVD collections that are not on the shelf where they belong. And 16 books or magazines or the floor. And while I was counting books I discovered another box of food - happened to be granola bars. In sum: I am a miserable excuse for a human being.]
This house is trashed and I really need to do something about it, but I lack the capacity to care right now. As it's nearly one in the morning, and also I'm a lazy, lazy bastard. Mostly the living room needs to be neatened up by putting the cat carrier away and straightening out the large deposits of mail all over the room. Remember when I had that apartment in Vancouver and my kitchen table was covered in two years' worth of mail because I never throw anything away? And how instead of approaching the problem rationally I bought power tools and built a decorative screen to block it from sight? I miss that screen; it came out quite well. But the point is, my mail problem approaches my laundry problem in sheer scope of ridiculousness and signs of mental illness.
Speaking of which, my laundry problem is quite out of hand. As is the issue of not having a TV in the living room, or a table anywhere, so I eat everything in my bedroom and now my desk and the floor around my bed are hosts to many, many boxes, wrappers, shreds of packaging, etc. This is also why I don't host parties at home and I never invite anyone over.
Also, there are two partially-filled bottles of liquor and an empty wine bottle in my sightline as I write this. If I'm ever murdered and the detectives sort through my things to get an idea of what was going on in my life, they're going to have some sad stories.
[Special addendum to how sad my life is: right now, I can see 13 opened mail envelopes in places around the room. And 18 packages/partial packages of food or beverages and/or dishes. And nine TV-on-DVD collections that are not on the shelf where they belong. And 16 books or magazines or the floor. And while I was counting books I discovered another box of food - happened to be granola bars. In sum: I am a miserable excuse for a human being.]
spit at you by Nil at 12:48 AM
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