PickledCherub

I got a call from work. Simon offered me fifty bucks and shift drinks for a week if I washed dishes for him tonight. I said, why? And he said that he was up too late partying and felt like shit. I said, no, sorry, no can do. I don't usually say no, but I'm working so much this week, and I'm on call. Really, I didn't want to do it. But it feels good to say no sometimes. Usually I say yes, or I just remain silent for a while. If he had been sick or something I probably would've said yes.

I decided to clean out my closet and get rid of all the clothes I don't wear. It's a big pile--actually it's two piles: one of stuff to donate and the other of stuff to alter. It's time to make clothes real pretty, I think. I'm washing my big pillow right now because I haven't done that in years. I think it might have some bad juu-juu.

My hair is getting so long that I almost always put it up. That's what happens when my hair gets to be a certain length. I don't particularly enjoy having long hair, but I am in no mood to chop it off. I like it right now, and that's usually when I decide to go get a haircut. It's part of not being able to leave good enough alone.

We talked about leftovers last night. Leftover pain, unprocessed feelings, the kind of thing that gets put in a white box in the fridge and stays there for a long time. The kind of thing that you have to deal with eventually. But you never know when you're going to have to clean out the fridge. And after you do, it looks eerily empty, like it's someone else's fridge.

I feel media saturated right now. Television is filled with portrayals of people with mediocre dreams.