He cannot be made to sit in that cushion because he says his back is a bit “dippy” and for decades no one has ever asked what he’s meant by “dippy” because we’ve pretty much have known what he’s meant. Twitchy, achy. Impinging in on him in some way.
But we notice he does sit on other cushions. There are the ones on the window seat that he is perfectly fine with. Although we are not, because he tends to twist his whole torso and throws one leg up over the remainder of the window seat. And he twists his neck toward the back yard, to get a view of the roses.
This stresses the rest of us out. For we are sure this will only make his ‘dippy’ back Dippier.

Fresh vegetables are annoying. First of all, it’s annoying that you assume they are fresh, just because of how shiny and perfect they look. Too perfect, if you ask me.

More annoying than anything is that you have to cut them up, only to realize the knife is dull and sharpening a dull knife is even duller than sharpening vegetables. So: veggies are washed and in the sink–you leave the sink and end up at your bureau top, because it’s easier to clear things–physically at least. And while you are putting things away, you open up a bureau drawer and find a pair of cutoff jeans. Size 27. You haven’t been a size 27 since college. Cutoffs? Pshaw! Oh, but well, you reconsider, I did have fun in these jeans, in college, even before they were cut from the thigh. I even had fun cutting them with scissors which, come to think of it, were dull–so dull, in fact, my knuckles bled. I examine the cutoffs closer…for the dried, twenty year old blood.

But there isn’t any, a la Brokeback Mountain.

But how did the cutoffs end up on the surface of the drawer? And then I remember: I was sorting this very bureau top earlier, yesterday in fact, during which I’d gotten rid of some old clothes. These cutoff jeans are by the far the oldest. But they’re still here, with new life. For the jeans at least. But me? I am infused with a very distinct lackadaisical quality where I am now compelled to sit on the couch and hunt for socks, which somehow end up under my sofa all the time.  

I don’t have to do anything: this notion of not having to be anywhere, clean anything, talk to anyone, buy something or watch any show. I’m bored enough to think about doing myself. But I never get it right. No one else does either. And you should never do yourself, or anyone else for that matter, if you’re bored.

I hate the smell of other people’s houses. Even the houses that smell good. I only like the smell of my own. But I don’t have one.
And now that I think about, I do recall, vaguely, the smell of a house that was more to my liking. It was my first boyfriend’s house. He was renting, actually. Like I said, I can’t tell you what the places smelled like but it will always reminded me of sex. Because it was where I lost my virginity.
It smelled of wood, if I had to venture a guess. Sour wood. Yes, sour.

We are in this together but not really but let’s just say that because I have a bit of a headache but should feel better when I take a nap. Which I’m not saying to you right now, only to myself, but even that is suspect since now it seems others are dictating thoughts and actions and it’s a little crazy right now (and this ‘now’ is lilted with a question mark, in order to sound friendly–but to who, I have no idea)

Take care, everyone!

Smackblue, Canada is what they called this tiny little town and in my tiny little room I felt the coldness of the snow and thought of the daffodils in Central Park and thought of you-know-who. But of course you wouldn’t know who he was. 

I looked out my tiny jealousy windows, wearing my endeavored Ray-bans. I looked around my tiny room only to realize the one thing I didn’t have here was coffee.

Elbows met elbows; I thought twice about starting an extra-marital affair.

Something went wrong with the cake. I followed the directions exactly–except for one thing–Ah! That’s it: While the cake was baking, I answered a call from my brother. He likes to complain about his girlfriends. I may have let the cake bake too long because he wanted his latest girlfriend to have an abortion.
I threw the cake away and started over. This time, when the phone rang. I didn’t answer it.

1. Rapination and Kym Mazelle – Love Me The Right Way
2. Bryan Justin Crum – Show Me Love
3. The Spinners – The Rubberband Man
4. George Benson – Give Me the Night
5. Kenny Loggins – Heart to Heart
6. School of Fish – Three Strange Days
7. Hot Chocolate – Everyone’s a Winner

…touch it, you will feel so much better. No! admonishes someone–lots of people–well-meaning people, friends, relatives, God–but it’s there like some cloud or something more solid, like a button that you have to press, you just have to.