Stuff

Waking up to the ongoing "down there" problem is getting very old. I saw doctor and was told every is just fine short of a metabolic thing that isn't news for over years. So how come I don't feel just fine? How come the look on my morning face upsets my husband deeply enough that his morning face starts to look just like it. Give me a topic, any topic and I can tell why it sucks, I feel that qualified with a Master's Degree in how shit sucketh.

Job search is bare today, as usual, unless you are curious about the National Guard. That industry is just POPPIN' with opportunities. /eye roll.

To give things a nice change up I looked around to find ideas that don't suck, and it's a daunting task when you really want to roll in your pile of suck because it's become so comfortable and routine.

So. While fighting myself to be positive... my negative is chomping to negate my efforts.

The sun is shining very nicely this morning. (Big deal it's doing it's only task)
The dogs are happy and alive (Bigger deal, again their only task)
Disneyland is open (I'm not there)
Rent is paid (for how long?)

I could do that shit all day and night but it's unproductive, yet inviting. One that I can't argue with is how spoiled I am (for the most part) in my marriage. I walk into my studio and it smacks of spoiled, or a guilty cheating husband, but that isn't the case. I have a rocking computer, surround sound, a cushy chair that looks like leather but was thoughtfully selected as I would have frowed were it real cow. I've got more stuff than any person should have. I am almost chained to life by my stuff. God forbid something happen to me and someone be burdened with handling all my stuff. And trust me, I'm a gross human being, Someone would have to be paid a lot of money to even consider the level of lazy that is my stuff. At the same time I cling to each bit of it with claws and the countenance of a two year old ready to throw a world class tantrum if something was to be taken from me.

While I think how sweet Mr. Morgan is for the stuff giving..... I have to step back and look at his stuff. He's the owner of just as much shit as I am. Neither one of us can ever move to another house, or dissapear - what would happen to the STUFF??? We can't leave the stuff out and lonely, feeling like it did something wrong. Stuff, is a priority:

Cheers to a better next week. Incidentally, typing the word stuff this many times makes it one of those words that begins to sound completely insane. Who came up with that word and why is it so dumb sounding? It also gives creedence to the fact that the english language is a tricky bitch. Try explaining that stuff is your given allotment of loot. Then explain it's also a condition of your nose and sinuses being on strike. "I'm stuffed up" to a learner, might just translate to having so many material items that there is no room for more. /striken from vocabulary.

- DM