Home alone'ish.

Hubby got a well-deserved break from work to go see the gf, so here I am, playing at being home alone.
The new bf will be here in a couple of days though, so I can't get up to too much mischief.
Plans include all the crappy movies I can get my filthy paws on, peanut-butter-fudge brownies and lots of.. you guessed it, sewing!
Surprise, yeah? :-P
Guess it sounds kinda lame, no booze or loose women, but I'm happy puttering around, cuddling my babies and (hawmagawd) maybe even try to clean a little.
Cause the weekend will be depraved enough for anyone!
:-D

Worn out.

Its been *such* a shitty week.
The employment-office person fucked up, yet again, I've been sick and tired and sick again, and then on wednesday we had to take baby River to the vet for the last time.
The vet-bill has buried our economy for the imediate future, but that doesn't stop the other bills from piling up.
I just want to sleep and sleep and sleep and make everything go away.
The lack of money makes me so fucking tired, and I can't stand looking at that little empty cage on the corner table.
River was always a Daddy's-girl, but I didn't love her any less because of it.
I miss my baby so much it hurts.

Bits and pieces I guess.

I *knew* there was a reason I isolated myself from the world for all those years.
Creeps! So many damn creeps!
Self-entitled, nagging assholes!
Heavens to Betsy, its enough to make a girl want to join a convent, and I'm a damn atheist!
So I guess my little project for finding a playmate is d-e-d.
Bleh.

On the bright side, I'm keeping myself busy-busy with needlework and sewing.
The days are bright and beautiful and filled with stuff to do.

Still, the disappointment stings.

A Primer for the Small Weird Loves ~ Richard Siken

So you say you want a deathbed scene, the knowledge that comes
before knowledge,
and you want it dirty.
And no one can ever figure out what you want,
and you won’t tell them,
and you realize the one person in the world who loves you
isn’t the one you thought it would be,
and you don’t trust him to love you in a way
you would enjoy.
And the boy who loves you the wrong way is filthy.
And the boy who loves you the wrong way keeps weakening.
You thought if you handed over your body
he’d do something interesting.

The stranger says there are no more couches and he will have to
sleep in your bed. You try to warn him, you tell him
you will want to get inside him, and ruin him,
but he doesn’t listen.
You do this, you do. You take the things you love
and tear them apart
or you pin them down with your body and pretend they’re yours.
So, you kiss him, and he doesn’t move, he doesn’t
pull away, and you keep on kissing him. And he hasn’t moved,
he’s frozen, and you’ve kissed him, and he’ll never
forgive you, and maybe now he’ll never leave you alone

Procrastination, part two.

I dont like it when I get to invested in something.
To much potential for hurt and heartbreak.
Right now its something realtively minor, the stiches on a handmade shirt I've been working my fingers off on, but the principle applies to larger things to.
I think I'm becoming a cynic. ( More than I already was)
Emotions make me uncomfortable.
The potential for connecting with someone even more so.
But I still want it.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Urghle.

Puttering about.

I'm a ball of nervous energy at the moment, though I can't pinpoint the source of my nervousness. It annoys the crap out of me, but I'm putting the energy to good use by cleaning the heck out of our apartement and sewing like a mad person.
I'm teaching myself smocking, cross-stitching, practicing my hand-sewing (I'm up to eight stitches pr inch) and making embroidered cloth-buttons.
I've gotten rid of ten kiloes of books, a bunch of dvds, and about a metric ton of fabric-scaps.
Then I made plum jam.
Next I'm starting a pogrom in my closet.
After that I suppose I'll start on the kitchen.
Blerghle.