Is it clean? Does it matter?

So, I'm living at home with my parents again. I get along well with my parents, and the rent is free. The hard thing about moving home, though, is that the stuff I have been living with at college has come home with me to live with everything I left at home. I am a pack rat. I have a hard time getting rid of things that have even the slightest emotional attachment. I have toys from childhood, Lire from my trip to Rome back in 2000, costumes from Halloweens long past and other things that serve no greater purpose than to take up space. I have resolved time and time again to reduce the clutter, but every time I try, I find myself just organizing it in new piles of relative importance. My new resolution is to pile it up, take a picture to preserve the memory, and donate what's salvageable or toss what's beyond hope.

Because of the massive piles of stuff, I have little room to store my clothing. The problem is complicated by my lack of desire to hang or fold my clothes. They usually congregate in an informal pile on my desk for a few days until their pleading looks guilt me into putting them in cozy drawers or hanging them with compatriots in the closet. For those few days, they sometimes try to keep their loneliness at bay by visiting with my dirty clothes. Why are my dirty clothes not snug in the hamper, you may ask? Well, after an endless day in the office, I sometimes just toss my clothes in the vicinity of the hamper and flee the scene in my pajamas. Being so reckless with my cotton-blend friends sometimes leads to problems.

This morning, I rushed around the house quickly dressing and flattening my hair. I grabbed a shirt on the boundary of the clean/dirty encampments, inspected it quickly, found it to be presentable and hurried to get to work on time. Once I was out in the daylight, I saw a small stain on the collar that had been able to disguise itself on the black top while in the dim light of my room. Then I had the choice: do I run back in to find a top I can determine without a doubt is clean, or do I just head to work. I decide that with the lack of time breathing down my collar, I should just hope that the artificial light of the office would help keep my secret. In conclusion, I've decided that as long as no one else can tell that it's not clean, it's clean to them.

Inside prep. for an audition

As I sit waiting for my audition, I'm impressed by the feeling that I should have peed before I arrived. So here's the question: should I go relieve myself and risk not being right where they need me when I'm called or do I sit through it with a slight tingle? The tingle is becoming unbearable, so off I go. Then there's another set of choices. I feel the need to - I'll be polite - go number two. There's another woman in here, so I have to decide whether I’ll wait to have more privacy or just let it go. She's making plenty of noise with the paper towel dispenser, so I opt for the quicker route. Unlike most other people, I enjoy going number two in public restrooms. It makes me feel like I have a new bond with the building. It's a lot like taking naps in new locations. All over England and Italy this summer, I leaned back in my chair or stretched out on the ground and bonded with the land - as if I don't really have to rush to see everything like the tourist that I am. I've bonded with Florence, Venice, and Chatsworth in such a fashion (as well as The National Theater and the Tate Modern in the other fashion mentioned above). Once the restroom problem is resolved, I just sit and write things like this to keep my mind off the impending judgment and scrutiny.

One of those days

Have you ever felt like one of the worst drivers in the world? Yesterday, I felt like I was due to injure myself at any moment. I didn't end up in an accident, but that's only by luck. I always check my mirrors and look behind me when chaning lanes. Yet, somehow I end up narrowly escaping each movement with my car intact. Though no one even honked, I felt like I was loosing my grip. I had become the worst driver with the best luck.

I had the chance to hang out with Kerwin and Angela's close friends who are also married. I love hanging out with them, but the Lonely creeps in when you're the odd man out. I think I am finally ready to try to date again (after a 10 month hiatus). I'll just have to wait to see if anyone else is interested in seeing me come out of retirement.

Mishap Maven

Just one thing after another. A few days ago, I was parking my car in front of the ATM when I heard this awful scrapping noise. It took me a second to realize it was the handicap assit hand rail scarring the passenger side of my car. I now have a huge gash on the side of my car. I coudn't believe it had happened. My poor car! I guess I'll have an easier time finding my car in the sea of other silver Ford Taurus models.

Dr. Kim fired the other receptionist, so now I work 9-5 Monday-Thurday. It wouldn't be so bad if we were more busy. As it is now, we only see about two patients a day. The phone only rings about a dozen times, and most of them are sales people or wrong numbers. She has be designing the brochure for the office, but other than that ther is little to do. I finished a book last week and have started on another just to try to keep awake. I hope things pick up. Dr. Kim is really qualified and very personable.