Only one more shopping day until my 30th birthday. I wish I could be more excited, but my life is in such a crappy holding pattern right now that it’s hard to get excited about arbitrary dates. I used to be so thrilled by the thought of my upcoming birthday, but that was back in the days when I knew that other people would make a big deal out of it, too. These days it’s just me who remembers. And, if he’s having a good month, the Boy.
I am making myself cry. Next topic.
Crochet: the Boy got me some crochet lessons for my birthday. I’m not really into most crochet, but it’s a good place to expand my knitting skills, since many projects call for a bit of crochet here and there. Dirk’s crafty roommate assured me that it was much easier than knitting, and I would pick it up in no time. Yesterday I went to my first class and discovered that it is as easy as falling off a log. That being said, while crochet is easy to do, it’s not easy to do right. I’m trying to make a hat for my brother (seemed easy) and working in the round means that I have no idea where my rounds begin and end. So I’m just givin’r. I mean, it’s a crocheted hat with an anarchy sign sewn onto the front; how badly can I mess it up?
I supposed I’ll find out next week, when I go to the second class.
Vacation Bible School: this was a bad idea. Last year, the only thing that got me through the week was repeated blasting of the Scissors Sisters CD. Somehow I forgot this important fact when I was asked to “help out.” I can’t believe I agreed to do this again (and this time I’m in charge!). I lost a whole month because of a materials mix-up; there are only a dozen kids registered; no one wants to take any responsibility with me; the few who do want to help are all on vacation this week so we can’t get together to plan. I have 2 weeks to get this piece of shit airborne. My only solace is that I am never doing this again.
On Friday we helped Stacy move into Apartment 4N, a swank new place with a gorgeous view all the way down to the lake. It’s an apartment, but it doesn’t smell like an apartment, if that makes any sense.
It was a good morning and a positive move, but the whole experience has depressed the shit out of both the Boy and myself, as seeing Stacy’s new digs meant that we need to move more than ever. If I’m not out of this basement by this time next year, [insert empty threat here]. God, I want to move.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*