Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers
cydniey

It will be so good to get those palms off the pathway.

You know, through the whole thing this past holiday season with my parents and the ornaments I never got and my Nan's stroke, and going to Kasey's tree right behind their house, I never did see my parents.

Doc went to the shops to pay the electric bill today and ran into my dad. IN AN ELECTRIC SCOOTER. HE IS SO FAT, HE NEEDS AN ELECTRIC SCOOTER IN THE GROCERY. I laughed so hard. Yes, schadenfreude is my bestest friend. I do revel in their failures. No wonder he started teaching online instead of in the classroom. It must have been hell standing in front of a class all day. I guess he won't be on so many rides at Disneyland when they have him in a parade this coming year. Yes, last year, he was in a Main Street parade at Disney-fucking-land in an old fashioned convertible with my mom and a placard with his stupid name on the side of the car. My mom just had to post those pictures on Facespace. That was pretty much when I unfriended her. She's just posting Disney shit to make me green with envy and absolutely furious, and it worked. So I took that power away from her.

Okay, when I tilt my head to the right, something in my back pulls painfully. Ouch. No more tilting my head to the right.

I talked to Kelli today. She needs her friend right now, and I can't be there for her. I feel so shitty about that. I wish there was something I could do besides urge her to come out here and start over like we did. It took us a few years to find our feet, but we were no worse off than she is now. But she won't hear it. She won't leave her niece and nephews. I admire that. But it's not helping her. I think I will write a poem about it.

I didn't do any poetry things today, except pull out of a contest that the host of was blackmailing me on. He was harassing me and basically the price I would pay for winning was to put up with his shit. Fuck that. The trophy isn't worth it to me. It's a CYBER thing. And I knew I had the winning poem. I knew he was just fucking with me when he refused to simply remove the poem from the contest, instead pushing me to delete it and give up the comments on it. Which is what I did. I got more comments on it. And hell, it might start a controversy. That was enough for one day. I can't advance in levels until I post more poems and win more trophies. So I'm kind of in a contest entering holding pattern right now. None of the contests ending today interested me aside from the two I had already entered.

My brother hasn't emailed me in about three weeks. I guess that's over. It's better that I have no contact with any of them. Doc and Kelli keep urging me to call my Nan, but I keep putting it off. I guess I'll call her tomorrow evening and see how her surgery went. She should be back up and around by now.

Doc is asleep, and I don't want to be on the computer and there is nothing on TV, I think I'll put on Star Trek:TNG on BBC America and go back to sleep. Next week I get my wireless router. The week after that, I get a cable box in my room so I can move back in there and stop sleeping on the couch.

It's supposed to cool down next week, but be 80 all weekend. I think i'll work in the studio and go over and ask if they've gotten rid of the carpets yet. See if I can't get a chunk for the studio. I also need to break down a few bottles for my herb garden. I'm making doc get a chainsaw tomorrow and borrow Richie's ladder so he can prune the trees. We didn't do it last year, and the stupid trees have started to bud, so we really need to get it done. It's really too late for the happiness of the tree, but it has to be done. The two big trees and the three palms are taking over. I'm going to insist he let me do the palms. They are low to the ground and I shouldn't have any problem handling the chainsaw. It will be so good to get those palms off the pathway. I have to sweep and rake outside, too. Gather leaves to burn in the fire pit, and clean off the patio, which is covered with a fine layer of sand from the yard.

Bah, goodnight.
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