just being me

It's been about two weeks since I have last seen my mom. The distance has been refreshing, especially when it comes to the nagging, but in a weird sadistic place in my heart, I miss her complaining about me- a little. I also missed my older sister, despite her constant cycle of making plans with me and dropping me asap; as soon as better plans with other people have been proposed to her, she'd drop me in a second. But I'm used to it. And apparently, my mom and my sister, both miss my cheerful, lovable, beautiful, and humorous self. I don't think they would use those words exactly, but it's really about them missing my presence. They love me. :)

Today I was in a cleaning mood. Actually my desperation to clean, has been a high priority of mine for awhile, but since I haven't spent an entire weekend at the apartment in a very long time, I've been putting it off, until now. It all started last night, when I got to cleaning the bathroom. As hard as I scrubbed, and as much brown shit came off the walls of the shower and tub, they are still pretty grungy. I am going to have to pull out the whole army for that task. Hopefully my secret weapon, clorox, will kill the brown stain of soap scum on the bottom of the tub. The sad thing is, I have taken several showers in there. Yuck. Hopefully I'll win the war against the shower some time this week.

Today, I tackled the cleaning of the kitchen, living room, and my room. I got down to the nit and gritty, but the floors of the kitchen have won the battle. I swept the kitchen at least 3 or 4 times, and wet swifted two times, but if I walk in there barefoot, my feet will still become a lighter shade of brown. At least it's better than black, which is the color my feet turned before I swept. The living room was all dusty, but now it's dusted and breathable, and semi-livable. I did'nt realize how much work this apartment needed. Thank goodness, my room wasn't bad. Just dusted here and there, cleaned my sheets, vacuumed, and Wahlah! Clean clean clean. It's good to not feel grossed out anymore.

It's so weird. I have all my shit here, I sleep here, I live here, but it still doesn't feel like home. Every day that I drive here, I say to myself, "where am I going?" It is all surreal and I am waiting to wake up in the old apartment with the beast living down the hall. The more I think about it the harder I have to slap myself back into reality. "You live here now." Maybe it would feel more homey if we had air conditioning, vaulted ceilings, a trumpet playing neighbor, a balcony with nothing on it, and two roommates who I have spent the last three years with creating and causing havoc from the dorms to beverly plaza. Dem was the good ol' days.

In other matters, this song seems to pull a heart string or two.