So, this is my life.

And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

stuff sweet stuff


it's one of those idle Sundays when my only wish is that i had a copy of "13 Going on 30" on DVD. you know the kind of day i'm talking about. i'm slightly hung over, far too tired to nap, and trying to stay up until a reasonable to-bed hour.

i'm exhausted. i went to an out-of-town housewarming party yesterday, which really doesn't sound that tiring, does it? but silly me, i started drinking with friends on the train to DC at 10 AM, then kept drinking off and on until i passed out at midnight. apparently everyone else at the party went out to bars. i just went to bed. and this morning all i wanted was to be at home.

too bad Amtrak wanted me to pay almost $100 to get home. too bad my dear frenemy, Ketel One, was still coursing through my poor, tired veins all morning. too bad the Chinatown bus was the only reasonable option -- though, in retrospect, my travel companion and i both agreed that we should've just paid for the train, because the Chinatown bus is always disgusting and full of horrible people. on today's ride, i witnessed an unhappy young thug threaten the bus driver midway through the ride, after which he yelled at another passenger. lovely. i just. wanted. to get. home.

"what are you rushing back for?"
my friend with the warmed house asked. "you have nothing to do!"

"i just need to go home. i want to be home," i sort of explained. i know, it's not much of an explanation.


a dear friend from my hometown always harps on me for my short visits home. "you need to spend more than two nights at home! it's Christmas, for god's sake!" she'll scream, like clockwork, every winter. usually she also throws in, "your mother misses you. you need to come for a longer visit." my response to Cassifrass has become a joke between us over the past few years: "i need to go back to Philly. that's where my STUFF is." i'm pretty sure she now uses that sort-of explanation with her own mother: "because that's where my STUFF is!"

my friend in DC was right. i really have nothing to do, nor did i have a reason to rush back home, other than because my STUFF is here. but i think that's reason enough. my black pussy is here. my couch is here. my pillows are here. my clothes are here. my Ped Egg is here.

and right now i want to spend some quiet time with my STUFF. me and my couch. Attipuss will sit close-by. and if Jesus loves me, "13 Going on 30" is OnDemand.


2 comments:

B'Lisha Jonez said...

I love that you include your Pedifile among the most notable of your "stuff." It truly is just that necessary.

Colleen said...

Oh my goodness, that Chinatown bus sounds horrid. I'm too poor for Amtrak, but I'm grateful that NJ Transit goes to most of my travel destinations these days.

Side bar: I'd be very interested in hearing your thoughts on capitalization sometime. You have a very intriguing method.