starkillers

Things in the trunk of my car:

Half a Japanese newspaper
My jacket, boy's jacket
8 quarts of Kendall 10W-30
Flashlight
Digital TV converter JL gave me two months ago
Plastic lid to Pyrex baking dish
Jumper cables
Blanket
Small bag of glitter
LL Bean Snow Tracker boots
Old steering wheel cover (pink)
Deflated tiger floatie

I hate when I sharpen my eyeliner, drop shavings on the floor without noticing, tread on them in bare feet, track dark purple eyeliner smudge all over the light beige carpeting from my bathroom to the kitchen, spend half an hour with Resolve Large Area Cleaning Granules and a toothbrush removing said smudge, then decide to tackle the spots on the stairs while I'm at it, realize the circular motion with the toothbrush will lift ground-in cat hairs that the $900 space vacuum leaves behind, and then spend 1.5 hours on a Friday night cleaning the carpet on my stairs with a toothbrush. I hate that.

People need to stop telling me I need a new car. It's not like she's held together with duct tape (except the fuse door, and you can't see that unless you put your head on the passenger floor) or anything; she doesn't look ghetto. She's got that ding in the front quarter panel, but it's subtle. Maybe they think their cars will catch old car cooties from her. I do not understand people who want a new car every three years, because that is a colossal waste of money. My insurance is $425. A year.

I am suffering severe recession guilt. Not only did I not lose my job, I found a better one that paid more and have had two raises in fifteen months. I put 20% down on my house and have no debt aside from the mortgage. I still have six months' living expenses in savings. I guess my guilt is more FEAR as in, when am I going to get mine? I still like my job. I am safely ensconced in 940 acres of park; that offers countless places to hide if necessary. The only better job I could have would involve fingerpaints and maybe a chemistry set and some Legos. I'm no longer suitable for private sector employment.

My sister tells stories about me to the people she works with, and I think they are all convinced I am ten years old and/or autistic and possibly in a group home. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

I am full of low-level angst for the last couple of weeks. Not sure if it's the impending change of season or what. I downloaded $40 worth of Britney Spears and Lady Gaga dance remixes. SYMPTOMATIC. don't judge.

Also I got Follow That Bird on DVD at Kroger for $10. Of course I cried. Very calmly. I joke about the blunted affect thing, but sometimes it scares me a little. I still remember when anything mattered at all. I don't know if it's part of the normal aging process.

Boy took me to Ponyo this afternoon. I resent the ending. Girls should not have to give up their magic for boys, because the girls will regret it every moment of the rest of their mortal lives, and the boys won't love them as much when they are no longer magic anyway. I realized just now that this is why The Last Unicorn has always been my favorite - she stays a unicorn in the end.

I AM A UNICORN

Other than that...still employed and housed. Still driving Baby, after a recent infusion of $1000 worth of platinum parts and Hello Kitty floor mats. I intend to be buried in that car.

Talked to Mlle Bisquitte for 2.5 hours last Wednesday night. I guess all is forgiven. Bitch.

I'm going home again when the leaves start to turn so Dad can drive me slowly mad. JL had the Nebraska Wild Game Cookbook, circa 1980, on her desk today, so I scanned in and e-mailed him the page with recipes for fried muskrat and raccoon casserole as ideas for Thanksgiving. Recession cuisine?

I will never forget my first Thanksgiving at my old job, when Mark-Mark came into my office with this giant frozen turkey and a big old grin on his face and said, "I hope you're not vegetarian!" I almost wish I'd seen my face. Maybe I'll finally get a Tofurkey this year. Sandy would probably eat it. Those are expensive, though. Last year I ordered vegetarian dinner for four at Whole Foods and picked it up to take home. THAT was expensive, but it could have fed eight easily.

Eugenia takes naps that bend time-space. She yawns, and universes crumble. She is my true child. I have a lovely ladybug costume for her Halloween.

one two three
four five six
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ladybugs came
to the ladybugs' picnic