Welcome to the Crazy

Hi! It's Sunday! The Day of The Stillness of Time! And I am at work! Hi! How are you! I may be going insane! No, wait! I am! I AM INSANE!

Honestly.

Yesterday Heather and I went to my storage facility where all my belongings have been hangin' out for the past year. I opened the door and simply staring at the Horror Within made me tired. We started going through boxes and bags. I literally had three huge garbage bags full of shoes. Shoes I will never wear again, because some of them were melted (thank you, cheap Target footwear), and also because literally every single pair had a heel and I do not wear anything with a heel after the Great Fall of Leg Breakage. My fear of shoes with a heel now equals my dizzying fear of heights.

I woke up yesterday after a disturbing dream in which I found out every friend I have, including some people who are just dream people and don't actually exist (at least I don't think they do), were talking cattily behind my back about how fat I am. (Don't deny it! I know you have been talking about me in my dream!) Which means I woke up depressed and mad at everyone in the house, including my 15-month-old nephew, because I dreamed this mean dream which obviously means nobody loves me and I'm going to go eat some worms. It took, literally, about four hours for me to get over this DREAM. Good LORD. I sat on the couch and scowled at everyone, and when anyone spoke to me, I bit their head off, spit it out and threw it at them. I told you I am insane.

Then we went to the storage room and the rainforesty morning turned into the blazing-hot baking-brains afternoon and several times I had to sit down because I thought I was going to fall over. I had to go through school stuff from last year, stuff I don't even WANT but I took from my classroom because I figured I deserved it after spending hundreds of my own dollars buying presents for children who behaved because it was necessary for classroom management and for me not to get fired mid-year. And yea, I dideth throweth crap away, and I hated Cindy afresh. Stupid bitch.

Anyway. Many shoes were disposed of. I think Heather is now going to have a garage sale comprised entirely of a selection of women's size 10 shoes with heels.

I also rid myself of Teacher Clothes. Anything I wore last year? GARAGE SALE. I would like to get rid of everything in my former apartment there (which is still what I picture when I think of my future apartment, which makes me want to bleach my brain), but then I would be left with my hand-me-down couch and garage sale shower curtain. I suppose I could just cook things in the new plastic cups I bought at World Market but I'm not sure how they'd hold up. Except, wait, I bought new pots and pans. So, couch, shower curtain, cups, pots and pans. And me!

I brought all my linens home and spent all afternoon washing sheets, blankets, and towels. I took my memory foam pad outside and sprayed it liberally with Febreze, so now it smells like a sleazy pimp instead of feet. OH! Did I mention that every towel, sheet, et cetera, smelled like feet? GOOD GOD, did my whole apartment there smell like feet? It wouldn't surprise me to realize that the WHOLE TOWN smelled like feet. The water certainly tasted like what I imagine feet would taste like, had I ever tasted feet. Which I have not.

I think I'm getting my mattresses switched out with better ones at the lake, which, rock on. I've got new slipcovers (mentioned in my mother rant). As I mentioned before, I bought a whole new set of pots and pans, which were a hundred dollars and much better quality than the ones I bought at Wal-Mart for twenty dollars lo, those many months ago before I moved to Tom's Scrotum. I do not ever want to cook with the little bitty saucepan which heated so many packages of Ramen Noodles whilst I stewed in my own misery. NOPE. GARAGE SALE. I encouraged Heather not to mark them up.

I have, actually, bought many new things to replace the old things that will remind me of bad things.

I bought a new quilt. I can't show it to you, because Kohl's no longer has a picture of it. I bought a new bed (read: headboard and footboard), and since I have never had one of my very own which I bought my own self, I am really so excited about that, especially since it costs about $800 retail and I got it (new!) for about $375. I bought new sheets (my old sheets now reside on the air mattress at my parents' house. I can never sleep upon them again) and will probably buy at least one more set after I move out and therefore cannot get in trouble for spending my own money. (I just wish you'd LEARN!) My folks got a new microwave so I've inherited their old one. I bought a new blanket at Kohl's, too, that I am already using because it is so fabulous I couldn't wait. It's one of those plushy ones that makes you think they must have skinned an angel to make. (My angel must have been green.) I bought curtains, too, and a bigger TV. I know I said I don't watch TV, and I don't, but I do watch movies (thank you, Netflix and my bulging DVD case!). I bought new bath rugs and my cousin gave me an extremely cute shower curtain she bought at a garage sale and then realized was superfluous.

That's all I can think of, but I'm sure I bought more. Because for a fat depressed girl, spending money online is Nirvana.

I am going to have the same coffee table. The same DVD player. The same lamps (though I am considering repainting them, because they are shiny 80s-gray). The same chair and ottoman, the same dresser. The same blue dishes, towels and many of the same bath things as before. I will have to wipe down all surfaces to remove any traces of the Tom's Scrotum Taint. I hope, eventually, I will look at the things I still have and not see them as they were when they were there. I actually took down all of my pictures in January of '05 after I gave my notice, even though I still had five months left, because I did not want to remember them there. I did not want to remember the faces of my loved ones in a place I hated. A picture of Reid never entered that apartment. At least I can take comfort in that, even though being there caused me to miss his birth and not meet him until he was three days old. I missed his first three days of life because of that foul hellhole. I wonder if the amount of bitter that I actually feel is coming across here.

I still cannot look at my college diploma without remembering it hanging in that awful classroom, and it certainly doesn't mean as much to me as it once did. Which is sad, because I worked SO HARD to get it. However, I used to lament that it did not say anything about "education" on it--ie Art Education, even though that's really what my major was--but now I am glad it announces my Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Studio Art, not Art Education.

Maybe I can look at it again after all. I will just have to wipe it down first.



10:19 PM: Having wine. Day sucked. Crazy, lonely, dying people all freaking come out Sundays before a holiday. Makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a rusty fork.



10:33 pm Tispy. Love the lofevly wine. all better now. Moving! On Friday! eeeeeee