Friday, December 12, 2008


The apartment is a mess. We are living in masses of chaos, and sometimes, like now, I feel that the curtain separating us from the Great Cosmic Entropy out there is dangerously thin, and perhaps about to be pushed aside altogether. On the bureau in the kitchen (yes, we have a bureau in the kitchen, and we will until some generous patron out there coughs up the money for some Metro shelving), a stack of Z-guns sit under a Japanese rice cooker, which sits under a packet of Staples CD mailers. Next to that is the top of a tube of lip balm (the actual balm part being MIA), a bottle of butt spray, a lighter, a defunct smoke detector, a bulb of garlic, a guitar capo, and a riot of books and CDs, all hastily snatched from the baby just in time to prevent their utter destruction. On the kitchen counter, right next to the laptop on which I am now typing, there is a check book, the TV remote, two Christmas CDs to give as presents, a save-the-date card for a wedding in Alexandria this summer, a cable for some sort of audio equipment, a quickly dwindling stack of dark chocolate bars from Trader Joe's, a small baggie of pistachios, an empty cassette tape case, a pot of lip gloss, a Pocky packet with two Pockys left in it, the instructions that came with the replacement cartridge for the turntable, some dental floss, a stack of bills, my hairdresser's business card, one Sharpie, one highlighter, and two pens. My own "work area," down the hall towards the bedroom, is too obscured by papers to be graded, things to be drycleaned and/or mended, outerwear that ought to be hung up, and random pieces of jewelry to even be considered as a potential area in which to work. The bedroom, where I have taken to sleeping on the floor with the baby so as to not have to worry about him crawling out of the bed when he's wakey, is a bizarre (though cozy) nest of crumpled sheets and blankets, adult-sized and baby-sized, variously pee-, drool-, and breastmilk-stained.

I thought, when I began this posting, that I had more to say about this situation. Turns out I don't. Just that this is my life, and this is how I'm choosing to live it.

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