your daddy, he's an outlaw...

03.20.05 @ 9:28 p.m.

I didn't leave Eugene until after 12:30 yesterday, and I drove at records speeds for me. To make my parents not worry about how quickly I made it, I stopped for lunch before leaving Eugene and at the library once I hit Cedar Mill. The library was overdoing it, so I told them I stopped there. They were not surprised, since it's something I do pretty often. I drove my mom around all over last night, which was nice, in that we got to talk and I got to feel something between smugness and pride at having the nicest car in my family. This probably isn't fair, but that's how it is. My dad's Toyota pickup is two years newer, but doesn't hold more than two people, and my mom's car is a BMW (ooh, fancy) but that's offset by it being a 1976 BMW. In orange. She took my car to church this morning and told us that everyone gave her flak for it.

My last final was truly bloody awful. I hated it. For one thing, I couldn't even do well on the question about Milton because I don't really know why he's considered a Renaissance poet--I never really cared. I probably did okay with Swift and the poetry essays. Really, though, I never ever want to think of it again. The lack of sleep leading up to the test is the main reason I didn't leave until Saturday. I fell asleep at 5 p.m. but I woke up again at 9 and played iSketch with Shabe, BSAG, Mr. Bad and a couple of other Dumbrellites. Also, I was drinking a little to try to make myself sleepy. Didn't really work.

This morning... ohhh, this morning was fun. I was peacefully sleeping in my huge bed (one of the real perks of being home... that and delicious food being cooked and being generally indulged) and I woke up to a kind of rustling sound. I sat up and looked at my closet, which doesn't have doors--hasn't had them for years upon years. Really, one part of the room where the ceiling slopes down was walled off and a door put at either end. It's now the Home for Wayward Mildew. Something saw me move and jumped up with a comical squeak before dashing back into the center of my closet. I say "something" because I wasn't wearing my glasses. I didn't scream, but I yelled "AGGGH." And then I did nothing about it. I stayed in bed for ten or fifteen more minutes and eventually got up to spend most of the day with my dad.

During that time, a squirrel scampered through our kitchen and out a hole in the threshhold of the back door.

The rest of the day was spent in listening to live Bob Dylan albums with my dad until my mom came home from her outing with Aunt Corporate Bore (Uncle Pretentious was here visiting Grandma, but I didn't interact with him at all) and Dad went out to work.

Me, I am working through several discs of Dad's Dylan collection, loading them into my iPod. I'm a little irritated that he didn't invite me to the Dylan-Merle Haggard concert last week. He enjoyed it so much that he won't stop talking about how great it was and how fucking unappreciative (in terms of music appreciation, rather than gratitude) the rest of his party was. Of course, that just kills me more, having not gotten to go. He said "You didn't want to go when he was in Eugene," but I had to remind him that that was two years ago and I didn't like Dylan then. I was indifferent. Since then he KNOWS I love Desire.

Bah. No changing the past. Tomorrow I go shopping with Martha and Amy! I'm pretty darn happy about that.

<< � >>

Previously

fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05