WTF am I going to do? I haven't taken a photo in many weeks now after carrying a camera every day and taking photos like this. It might be awhile before I am able to take photos again. The house repairs go slowly. Mr. Fixit worked half a day today. He will be back tomorrow and work through the weekend. I won't be able to think about anything creative until my house is put back together again. I do not think it will be so by Thanksgiving. Just in case you are curious, he doesn't work for free. I am growing ill with poverty, but more than anything, I want my space and peace again.
I went to the liquor store tonight after visiting my mother. There is no way to not drink with what I feel I am enduring. I needed liquor and had no desert. Maybe, I thought, they will have desert at the liquor store.
WTF? How have they not figured this out? One stop shopping. They need rich chocolates, expensive cookies, and gallons of milk. I may have to apply for a liquor license so I can show these fuckers a thing or two. Scotch and rich chocolate. Heroin and sex. One is legal and the other only in Oregon, the state that allows you to end your life when the time comes. I AM Oregon.
I am writing tonight because Mr. Fixit gets here so early. I do not know if I will have time to write in the morning. Tomorrow, I believe, we begin ripping apart the bathroom. "We." Like I am doing anything. Well, like I said. . . I worked a lifetime to pay for this shit.
Fuck! I haven't updated you on Batgirl. She had the rabbi shots. Oh. . . Q informed me that I had written "rabbi." Autocorrect, I guess. She did not. She had rabies shots. I don't know if you can actually get a rabbi shot.
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Sorry. I'm late posting today. I was asleep in the dark when I heard a tapping on my bedroom window. I didn't believe it, but it didn't stop. I was hoping--"Girlfriend."
It was Mr. Fixit. He got here a little after six. I've been otherwise engaged until now, so I will make a quick end to this post. Such is my cursed life at present.