How do I know this? Because I AM CLEANING. Yes, friends. It has come to this. This weather has driven me to the brink of insanity and I’ve read, blogged, surfed, shopped and watched some bad movies. There is nothing left to do but clean. I can’t even believe I am saying that.
Family members are now coming out of a state of shock, I know it. I have a (deserved) reputation for abhoring all manner of cleaning and only do it when I am expecting people to come over (and then I do it half-ass). I’d like to blame it on my mother and her crap example of being domestic and I’d do so with some impunity since she’d not around to argue with me but I just can’t. She worked her ass off taking care of me and my invalid (blind and then double amputee) dad all while working a full time job. So, she gets a monster pass and I have to own this one myself.
I am at home in clutter (although I am becoming less tolerant of it as I grow older) and don’t feel compelled to have a sparkling house all the time. Never has been a priority. Which is sad, I suppose. In my fantasy life (the one where I share in carnal pleasures with Cookie and Sparkela*) I love cleaning, am thin, tall, intelligent and full of joy all the time. (And insane but quietly so.)
Nope, I’ll never be someone who enjoys cleaning. I’d rather work overtime and pay someone to come do this for me. I suspect it has something to do with my challenge of living in this dense third dimension. Perhaps if I did it more, I’d become more grounded. Good hypothesis – wonder if our scientists will carry out some research.
Okay, back to cleaning the kitchen. I’m rocking the tunes (which helps immensely) so it’s not too bad. Currently playing on the iPod of love and cleaning: “Working day and night” – MJ. Great song. Always gets me moving.
As I was laying on the chiropractor’s padded bench, all I could think of was this Eddie routine. (Officially starts at 1:35 in but watch the first minute or so … pure Eddie)
(If you don’t want to watch it (and if you don’t, what is wrong with you) here’s the transcript to just that one section)
So I had to go see a chiropractor in New York, … And they crack your bones, that’s what they do, they crack your bones! And they take x-rays, but it’s pointless, because whatever is wrong with you… “You’ve got a bad back, I’m gonna crack your bones.” “You’ve got diphtheria, I’m gonna crack your bones.” “Your head’s come off! I’m gonna crack your bones.” “It looks like your mother! I’m going to crack your bones.”
So yeah … he cracked my bones and it felt GOOOOOOD. I have been to a chiropractor before but he did something totally different that felt like I was being ironed. It felt good but this was definitely different. After all kinds of tests and whatnot, he began with my neck and head and … well, cracked my bones! For whatever reason, I started giggling and then broke into laughter. I managed to stifle it as he continued pulling my leg (literally) and then leaned on me in some weird way. And yes, I paid him to do this for me.
Amazingly (to me), when I left, I felt ‘clear’ – that’s really the only word that described it. I know there’s more to do but that was a good start. And! I went to the gym both last night and tonight! Woo Hoo!
Gal, since you asked, I will post about my manifesting process over the weekend. I’ve got two eps of True Blood Season 1 left and I’m anxious to get watching it. It deserves its own post anyway. This leaving early crap gets in the way of my blogging and emailing. It’s quiet at work from 8:30-10 usually but limited net access is a drag. (At least I have net access, though. They only limit the fun stuff! hehe)
… Wherein I lose what’s left of my sanity and go to a concert almost four hours away on a school night.
An open letter to my (apparently not-so-sekrit) boyfriend:
Dear Dave,
I love you. I really do. You’re talented, humorous in a dorky sort of way that appeals to me, look awfully nice in those pants tailored to fit your every, uh, feature and for a guy, you’re real pretty. Truth be told, I’d listen to you recite the alphabet and probably pay good money to do so.
This love has caused me to do some bizarre things. To wit:
** Standing in a crowd of Idol maniacs for three hours in the August Washington heat and humidity just to get a glimpse of you? (Bonus: stuttering in front of you and feeling like a big idiot.) Awesome!
**General Admission concerts which included a beach in VA and a University in Towson – wait times approx 3-4 hours each place. Hells yeah!
**State Fair in Delaware where I was surrounded by very bad food offerings (fried candy bars?) and accompanied by a sister-in-law with ace photo skills but a dead camera battery. Fantabulous!
**Walking a 5k in the pouring rain on a Sunday morning and then standing in said rain for another hour afterwards just to see you speak? I. am so there.
And now I can add this:
Spending many hours jammed in a mini-van with six other women (Dave fans all) driving to a far away locale to see you perform for 90 minutes. And then driving home again to arrive at my final destination around 1:30am.
Only for you, dearest Dave, would I brave chaos, noise, confusion and paying for two seats instead of one. (I don’t quite know how this happened but it seems that it did.) In return I got homemade biscotti, intelligent conversation about all things DC related, a chance to see Charlottesville again and a reason to leave work early today. Oh yeah, and, of course, an awesome show. Live “Man in the Box” was spectacular as was acapella “Lie” and my personal pony “Straight Ahead”. Only your loving and dedicated fans would welcome (nay encourage!) your blatherings about grilled cheese with chili, calamari and, oh by the way, did you have french fries too?
I’ve come full circle from my first show literally standing at your feet in Towson to my last for this year standing at your feet (but a bit more on the right). For my trouble I caught one of your guitar picks (okay, I didn’t but the chick who did gave it to me) and was present at what the kids nowadays call an “Epic!!” show. So so so glad I decided to go.
So Dave, my not-so-sekrit boyfriend, whether you are wearing that fucking hat, shirts that show off the arm porn, jeans hinting at fanbase issues or a suit because you just got back from Capitol Hill, you are still our dorky Dave. Don’t go changing, k?
Srsly, I is! I managed not to turn on the computer for a whole two hours after getting home today! Woot! I cleaned two litter boxes, fed Lucie and gave her a shot, cleaned some crap outta the pool, watered the tomato plants, loaded and ran the dishwasher, and talked on the phone to my friend Tom re: Seminary issues. YEY for me!
I’ve also come to a decision – I am taking three months off from my Seminary work. After talking with my friend Tom (a seminary advisor but mostly my friend), I feel that I have to pay attention to the message I am getting from Spirit which tells me to “step back”. By putting a hold on my work, I can use the time to see if there’s something out there calling me loudly – I suspect so and that Spirit is assisting me in opening up some space for it. We’ll see. I’m fine with the decision and am excited to see what’s coming down the pike.
Speaking of accomplishments, I am thisclose to finishing the last book in the Twilight series (Breaking Dawn). Definitely the best of the four. But I’m in no danger of becoming mesmerized by RPatz (aka: Edward the vampire). I can have but one teen-age crush and you know who that is.
Which brings me to today’s (not-so-secret) word: underpanties - he haz them.
I mean, hey. I can see his face any damn time. It’s not often we get to see a glimpse of the undergarments. Don’t judge.
