Domesticated

Okay, so here's another thing I don't like about buying sheets. How was I supposed to know that mattress people are sleeping on mattresses that are approximately 10 feet high, and so if I bought a queen-sized sheet set for my queen-sized futon, I would end up with a fitted sheet that goes two feet under the futon on each side and a flat sheet that would make pools of crispy cotton on the floor? I mean, really.

Last night Eric and I strolled down the street for a going away party. MC, who is/was the singer for the Solid Senders, is up and moving to Montreal to go to museum studies school. God help her if it's anything like library school, but Montreal! And she'll be living by herself for the first time. We advised her to get a cat so she wouldn't be talking to herself. She advised us that she had no problem with talking to herself. I had a glass and a half of wine, Eric had some beer, we ate chili, MC got really excited about my brownies, and the three of us had a really nice conversation about tattoos. We left just as Tracie was fomenting the move to Babylon for some dancing.

Eric worked early this morning, so I got up with him, and was up and out for a run by 8 am. Then greasy breakfast, grocery shopping, crossing the street to avoid the Somerset Vort-ex,* and back home.

Since getting home, I have been dividing my time between all the rooms in my house. Ironing board in the bedroom to measure what I was going to chop off the sheet and iron the new hem. Sewing machine set up on the kitchen table. Living room breaks to change music, check my email, and copy the bass lines from a 5678's song. Sheet finally hemmed, and down to the basement to wash it. Washing machine finished and out through the lean to out to the back yard to hang the sheets. More fucking around in the living room, back to the kitchen for dish washing and banana bread baking. Bread in the oven and off to blog.

And now, I rest.



*Jennifer, Eric and I all have exes who live on Somerset Street. Within two blocks of each other. On the same side of the street. Sometimes that's just too much, even if I am fond of my Somersetex.