Come Away with Me

Oh the things to do.

I have 2 piles on my floor. They are both of clothes. Because they are on the floor, they are both woven with white dog hair. Sally rubs her back on my carpet. She rolls around and gets really in there, as if she is trying to rub her fur off. It does rub off. Then my lazy bones come home at night and strip my layers onto piles on the floor. Then dog hair clings.

I'm hanging up the piles today. Dog hair in my closet. I'll vacuum too. Dog hair in the vacuum. It fails at sucking it all up.

I want to finish my book, but that won't happen today. I still have 400 pages left, but after a 1000, it doesn't seem like much. Ayn exasperates me. Her characters feel like cardboard. They are a single sub-personality of a sub-personality of a real person. Too one dimensional to lure me anymore. But I do want to know what happens in the end. So I keep reading about the cardboard that changes the teen/20something generations forever.

Laundry. I'm down to bunchy cotton undies. I need normal underwear and thongs and boyshort underwear. The laundry room is literally across the hall from my room. The laundry machine is closer than my toilet, but somehow it is a task. Oh, will I get over it today.

My mom is taking down the christmas tree behind me. I feel like I will (and should) help her after I write this blog. She is aggravated with Sally because Salad just hovers around. And her hair sheds from her hover-mobile body, blanketing out house in dog hair in that style of those single old women you hear about that have cats and cat hair and dust everywhere. But we have Salad leaves. Dead and dying on everything. Sally is old and I feel like we are all just waiting for her to let go, wondering what we are offering her that makes her stick around. Poor girl. My honesty is sickening.

Diego got pinworms again. The primary symptom of them is that it makes your butt itch. He was scratching his ass all the time and there you go, he's got 'em. So he isn't just going through a phase of touching his body.

The freezing air has made ants come into our home. I've been watching some walk around. The freezing weather is also why I am here, writing this instead of not. I was supposed to do a photoshoot in the botanical gardens right now, but we moved it to wednesday because it will be 20 degrees warmer. No more 30s in south florida by then hopefully. Low 60s seems totally doable in little clothes after this.

Mom brought Adri home and she's sporting her new boots. Her pacing is noisy. I want to rip those boots off her so I don't have to listen to it clash with Nora's buttery voice.

The Christmas tree is calling. My tea is practically all in my belly. The dishwasher is gurgling. I spent time with my mom this morning. She gave me a back rub. We cuddled. That's what time and cold weather does I guess. New York: here I am. Take me. Snatch me. Call me. I promise, I won't lose my phone again if you do!

Adri keeps wanting to take Mom away with her. It fits the melody (the title of this post) .