Dearest, here it is. The middle of the day. Most of my house sitting/birdwatching/dog sitting/injecting cats with insulin tour of duty is almost over. I am relieved. I'm tired. I'm ready. I live in and out of hat boxes, and I have for the past 12 years. Before I had my dogs and step brothers, there I was. Like a hobo. Wanna go dance all night and sleep in the car until work begins? Sure. Listen, I wanna drink margaritas (I mean, not get drunk) and watch the sun come up, then go to work, you wanna? Oh yes. You comin' home tonight? No, I got a ghost to bust. These are real life answers in times in my life. Now, all I want to do is raise chickens and not live 40 minutes away from my boyfriend. My newest revelation is that I need 4 new pillows and a case of water to be satisfied. I am all shaky until I fulfill this want. Make that, compulsion. I have to fulfill these compulsions until I feel better. That's why it's a compulsion. Duh.
My parent's rental house was burglarized again today. This has happened twice, and no, I do not live in Compton. Not there's anything wrong with that, but my sense of security is shaky. WTF? Oh well, I sit with my revolver in my living room ready to go. Tiger wears a funny vest. Champ just lays outside in the sun. Like an albino raisin in the sun......
Gah, I miss my friends, and so ready for good things to flourish. My desert is not as vast as others right now but I'm just burned out. I feel myself putting on my socks and shoes, and right as I go to play; I gotta finish something "important."
I hope we get to talk soon. I'm still eating clean even though my body craves refined sugar like a junkie. I'm working through some things, and all I can do is keep going.