I am feeling a million times better now just from spending time entertwined with Jason on the couch while the corn muffins baked away.

We were talking the other day about how mundane life can get after college.

I’ve tried never to be passive in my choices but of course this happens all the time in the small things that are easy to overlook. It’s hard to see how all of that intricate timing can drastically change your life and it often takes a couple of years to soak in what’s really going on before you can make the next move. I’ve never regretted hanging around good ole Tennessee after graduation cause J’s a good reason for staying and originally he was staying for me. When I’m making my millionth and third latte for the week, I have to remember to trust in my judgement because all the good stuff I perceive to be happening in my life is often more accurate than I may think. I was thinking today about all of this and wondering where my life would be without him. I would probably be finishing up graduate school and then moving on to the PeaceCorps or vice versa. How can that compare to true love? Really. I need some justification here. (okay, maybe not) (okay, really I do.)

Lost my keys this morning and was super late to work.
Screamed when my first customer said hello cause I was in a frantic rush and didn’t know the doors were unlocked.
I have no money for rent.
I have no money for groceries.
Got a call that I missed a potential patron who saw my interview in Explore because I didn’t get my show up yesterday and then then later found out he tried to check out my website and it’s not updated with the portraits and he is not from Cookeville and hopefully he will come back. More evidence of laziness and why I should be kicked.
Then I sprayed myself with half a gallon of gasoline which was worth $1.03.
Had to bathe myself and my clothes three times and the house still stinks.
Hit my head on the corner of the car door.
Then I lost my hammer.
Looked for 37 minutes before I gave up and put the frame on the painting of Mary with a sledge. That was loads of fun. Grumpy woman with raw power.
Had to buy a new hammer.
Argued with a woman over one of my portraits as I was hanging my show in the ever so prestigious Hallway Gallery.
Conversation went something like this.
“These all look so good. Is there a painting of you here?”
“Yes, it’s that one over there.”
“That’s not you.”
“Yes it is.”
“No it’s not.”
“Yes it is.”
“But you don’t look that bad.”
“Thank you.”

What was I thinking by saying thank you? I do that all the time. Saying thank you after a quasi insult. Example. “I had no idea you could paint well.” I get that one a lot. What they mean is that the abstracts I did before wasn’t real painting because a third grader could do that, yeah? Am I right. I think I’m going to change the title of the self portrait to ‘This Isn’t Me. Really.’ Why do people think you have to look nice and pretty all the time. Most of the time I’m messy, sleepy and have puffy eyes, frizzy hair and zits galore. What’s wrong with portraying that?
It’s hours after the gasoline fetish fest and my house still stinks.
And the grass in my lawn is up to my knees. Small children wander into the yard and are never seen again. Was going to mow the lawn today. But the mower’s pull string is screwed.
And we have dirty dishes and books and papers and boxes and gasoline and bits of tomato and potatoes and empty coffee cups and sharp pointy objects strewn around the house.
Yick.