On the original subject, now on our list of things maintenance can come do for us is replace our kitchen faucet. It wasn't new, by any means. I would have guessed it was installed in the 80's, when it looks like the kitchen was redone, at the tail end of the 70's with its dark cabinetry and medieval handles. Then, tile was added. Nice, ceramic tile. And it's a big kitchen. It could have an island in the middle of it, but I've resisted, I like having room to flail around when I cook. An island would just be something to run into and trip over. It is time for the faucet to be replaced. I could use new sinks in my bathroom, but I'm not pushing it.
I was describing the latest drama with B to Kelli today. He stepped over another line with me. He was given, without asking, and without compensation, some of my latest crop. The one I worked so fucking hard on. And then he asked for it, but before it could be given to him, he insulted it. No, it's not medical grade. It's a girl playing around in some extra space in a grow space. That's why I was so generous with him. And the fucker had the nerve to look the gift horse in the mouth. And his mouth didn't touch the spliff I'd sent with Doc. Fucker.
So I tell Kelli all of this and she is just incredulous and is asking "Why are you putting up with this shit?" And the truth is, he is a savant with anything with two wheels. He's just also a drunkard and a louse. Doc has been really good about keeping him out of the house.
Doc tried a new schedule today. He slept early in the morning to the mid-afternoon, and was up for a few hours before he had to go to work. And he wasn't rushed or feeling the sleep meds still or anything bad like that. He got off to work on time. I liked it.
For some reason Chewy hates going for walks with Doc. He took Chews yesterday and today. And both times the dog climbed up on me and clung to me. It took us five minutes for him to be convinced to go to Doc. And it took the "stern" tone to do it.
I'm in my I Don't Give a Fuck shirt. A 15 year old wife beater, not long enough to cover my Buddha belly and Herb, my muffin top. White, ish. Holes. Skin tight. Something I would love to wear up on stage. Go up on stage with my jeans pulled up over my muffin top and point that out and how uncomfortable that is and use that to launch into a piece (yet to be written) about living up to the whole body image thing. How expensive and exhausting it is. Coming from someone with unshaved armpits and body fat and scars. I know, it's easy. It's obvious. But it could work.
I wonder what the kids are doing these days. A lot of corporate minded stuff. Anti-corporate, I should say. I have no idealism about that, I can't put feeling into that. The type of toilet paper I use is on my boycott list, but it is what I can afford. WalMart sucks, but I can't afford to shop anywhere else. And anywhere I could afford to shop would be just as bad. Fair Trade is for the rich and idealistic. It's a really nice thought. But when we're surfing the clearance section desperately for butter or eggs, fair trade is the farthest thing from our minds. What is on our minds is, "Just a few cents less."
In that vein, I'm going to apply for SNAP, once Doc gets his taxes done. Even a few dollars a month for food would be cool. At the same time I will be signed up for Medicaid, and may actually have the means to get something done with my teeth.
Doc has a shift bid coming up, and is going to try to stay on the same shift, since he makes more an hour on that shift. I'm cool with it. it really doesn't matter when I sleep or when I'm awake. Just regulate my schedule with my meds. Easy peasy.
Speaking of, I think I'm going to have a smoke and a bedtime cup of coffee (don't judge me!) on the patio, under the fairy lights and then call it a night so I get up early. New week tomorrow. Maybe next week I'll get my first entry for the art project. For the post I made today, I added my name and copyright. I set the year at 2000, because I didn't know when it was written, I do know it was published in 2006.
And apparently I was on something called Vegas Mojo at some point and had a link to it. Carelessly, I deleted it. I've never run across it in my vanity google self-searches.
Anyway, that was so long ago. Everything was so long ago.
Yes, maybe blue hair is just what I need for spring. Maybe it will make people think I'm European and won't expect me to talk. As long as I don't have to open my mouth in front of people close up, everything will be fine.