Tonight is one of those nights where it's hard for me to lull myself to bed, even though I hate staying up so late, knowing that if I stay up until 2 am tonight, I'll be waking up for work in a day at 3 am.
I washed all of the dishes from the dinner that I made for my guests tonight. Most of the dishes I washed by hand; the dishwasher was full, and I think that dishwashers and garbage disposals are a scam anyhow (you have to wash your dishes before packing it, and apparently potato peels will clog the sink anyway) but the amount of dishes were overwhelming, so I did appreciate having a place to tuck them in for the night. I nuzzled my cat and wished for a moment that she was as docile as a teddy bear so I could take her up to bed, appreciating her tiny snores, aware that if I stirred her much more she'd transform into a haughty yet clumsy wannabe-vicious little lion. She'd get annoyed. We live in peace, so I try not to do that. I have hope that when I wake up she'll be napping in my doorway like she was this morning. She gives me clues that she likes having me around: sometimes waiting outside of the bathroom door as I shower, hanging out in the kitchen a while as I cook. She's great. Sometimes reminds me of a teenager, mortified that she has to interact with me, but it makes those sweet moments all the better. Plus if she always wanted to hang out I'd feel like a jerk for being gone so much.
She makes me happy when I'm bummed. Best decision ever bringing her home and one I almost didn't. I was supposed to be shopping with Nick for supplies for the kitten he was getting later that month, and I saw her waiting to be adopted and instantly named her. It was an impulse. I'm a bit of a commitment-phobe, so I probably wouldn't have planned for her otherwise.
Anyway, tonight I went upstairs and (as I often do) sat on the sink and worked my clogged pores, looking for the many imperfections in my skin and trying to temporarily fix problems, poking and squeezing, no doubt worsening the issues for tomorrow.
I thought about finishing the film noir that I started the other day (what is it about watching old movies that makes me feel like I'm up on something? it doesn't take any special skill, but listen to me mention the term "film noir" in casual conversation and feel free to-- mistakenly-- assume I have a deeper knowledge of film and art in general), but I'm too much of a scardey cat to deal with that level of intrigue before bed. Besides, I've been having some unpleasant dreams lately, so I'd better keep a lid on it.I'm not sure if the dreams are mostly unpleasant in retrospect, as I feel that my conscious mind has more opinions and prejudices than my dream-observer mind.
Well, I guess I'm finally tired and ready to go to bed. I wonder if when I'm an old woman if I'll care if anyone finds me pretty. Maybe it'll be really liberating. I hope so, rather than it feeling like a loss. Instead of being depressed about feeling like I'll never be the ideal of womanly physical beautiful (I'm not the most or the least anything, so who knows why not being the most beautiful is something I fixate on), it'll become a non-issue. at least I'm a pretty normal looking lady, so I don't think that aging will be such a terrible blow. I'm not used to getting by on my looks already is what I mean. I look alright. People in general don' find my personality objectionable either. These things are positive.
That's all she wrote: my cat and my vanity. Pretty stoked about hitting the hay. Goodnight.
No comments:
Post a Comment