Bad Night

Well it's 11:30am. I've been up awhile. I had the hardest time drifting off last night when I finally get back in bed for good. I woke up stiff, I'm wondering if I have too many blankets or if I'm just staying too immobile while sleeping because the cat is sharing the bed. Maybe both but it gets chilly at night. I'd like to take today "off" and basically piss it away. Really shouldn't, maybe a few hours of unwinding would be good though. Need to decide on breakfast. No new message from brother and it's too early for the mail to arrive. And yes, dear readers, the newspaper continues to arrive! They are first rate morons. Car might be ready tomorrow but I don't believe it. It's now three weeks since Mother passed and doesn't seem even close to so long. Incredible! It's also a month since the estimate was done on the car. Must fetch food.

Almost 4pm. I had a 'lean pizza' for breakfast. Just cheese. I'm already hungry. Been sorting. I've got Father's old room finished. Having been used for storage, it had things of mine literally going back 30 years. Have done some of my bedroom already. Cat seems bored today and nervous. She was hiding for awhile. Poor thing. Nothing came in the mail today except advertisements. I feel tired, will probably make it an early night and get more food in me.

It's coming up on 7pm. I'm eating chili from the grocery which has been in the fridge. Great stuff. Got the bed made in Father's room for (presumed) upcoming guest. I lugged full, heavy dresser drawers back to my room and put them away. I admit the sweating got to me so I stripped down to underpants until I finally cooled off. Cat came out to the kitchen, meowed and I'm like, "I don' t have cheese for you. It's not good for you. It makes you barf. I don't have usually have cheese with this chili, it doesn't need it." The chili was heating up. More meowing and bug-eyed looks and I say, "I'm dumb as a box of rocks." And then it hit me, "Oh! Do you want hair ball stuff?" So I get out the tube, fed her a strip and that satisfied her. I'm a little out of practice on my cat interpretative skill.

11:30pm. Did some emailing. Car made it into paint stage today! It could be ready by end of millennium if patient. Earlier pondered if I've treated computers/computing as a "false idol," will give this more attention in time. Vegas' dad doesn't like the bf. Parents often don't like paramours (or friends) picked by their offspring. However, I've found while it might seem unfair, unseemly or just wrong, in time they may be proven correct. That is one thing I thought of a week back or more: I won't have Mother to (help) evaluate any would-be mates. I've grown some, so perhaps I'll be OK on my own. Watched some AI4 clips of Anthony Fedorov; read he's got a bilingual (English/Spanish) CD coming out this year. Ukraine-born singer, turned American, singing Spanish? Hey! Why not?

I look at a clip of Anthony singing and begin to question my motives: did I like him because he's got a nice vocal tone, was it his look? With Clay Aiken it's clearly not his look, but he did have a charismatic way about him when on stage. I like Anthony's performance, look and vocals all around. I can't help but notice he seems to have a large pelvis. Something instinctive in me responds to that in a male be it Nick Carter or Lance Bass. I think it's a familial longing looking for that male-bonding relationship I didn't get. I've thought my brother is vaguely shaped that way. I told Vegas, in email, he's lucky to now be having adult-level conversations with his dad; I never got anywhere near that level. He worked, then he was ill and even my brother told me Father admitted he didn't "get" me. No secret that. He was rural-rooted. I was the product of an entirely different culture.

I didn't really have many adult-style conversations with Mother. That was something I intended to work on this year, alas I procrastinated too long. We talked about plenty of things: people, culture, politics, religion but it was all very rarely personalized. She didn't seem the type so things were often talked about abstractly. The SIL isn't that way. Totally opposite: it has to be personalized or it doesn't register, something she openly admits. Makes it hard for me to communicate effectively to her since I think I'm not that emotive in person. I'm bored. It's midnight here (depending on the clock I favor). I'm going to bed. Sweet dreams, readers!