A Normal, Respectable Citizen/Something Out Of A “House” Episode

I somewhat apologize for not finishing this a week ago…

Thursday, December 27th, was a day I was fully expecting and equally dreading. Fully expecting because I knew what would happen because I’d had said procedure done before, equally dreading because I hate hospitals with a fiery passion…

And to think, I used to want to be a doctor. What would my six-year-old self say?

…I thought I’d had an MRI (the procedure in question) done before because I did the same necessary preparation with a CAT scan I’d had done a while ago, but it turns out I was wrong. I never had an MRI. I should have realized the difference between the two when my doctor told me that I would need to remove my piercings.

I removed my earrings before I went to bed, leaving the task of taking out my snakebites to when I had some much-needed sleep behind me. Staring back at me, some hours later, I found myself without any surgical steel in my skin whatsoever. I felt naked without the familiar silver labrets through my lip. I’ve taken them out for medical procedures before, not to mention every time I clean them (Listerine every morning and night, and yet I’m still a clean freak), but I’d never had them not be a part of my being for as long as they were…Which I will elaborate on later.

The first thing that came to mind when I saw myself ‘without’ my snakebites was how incredibly normal I look. Yes, you heard right. I looked a normal, respectable citizen. Now I’m not saying that I’m not a respectable citizen because I am, but that isn’t always the vibe that’s given off. I do look young for my age (which isn’t in any way a problem) and the leather jacket I wear, combined with the piercings, might suggest some kind of rebellion, so I guess I know how the vibe can be unsavory, but still. I can’t count the number of times I’ve noticed individuals looking at me because of the two 14 gauge silver labrets in my lip, and if I don’t notice, my mom surely will. I’m not saying that I care what people think of me because I don’t. I learned a long time ago that it’s pointless to be worried about what others think of me because I am the way I am, and what some stranger thinks of me doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Okay, maybe that’s kind of a half truth. I don’t care what people think of me, but in the same breath, I admit it bothers me sometimes when I catch someone staring at me because of my snakebites…

Can’t people just be real and ask whatever question it is that might be running through their cranium, instead of staring? I remember when I first got the piercings, I would get asked all the time if they hurt. I later attributed said question to the fact that the two 16 gauge lip rings driven through my lip were pretty big…The smaller the gauge number, the bigger the gauge…There was one incident that occurred a couple of months ago that outshines them all. I was at the store, and someone who actually worked there asked me if my snakebites had hurt. I kind of saw the gentleman looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t want him to notice that saw him. Out of nowhere, he asked me if they’d hurt, and honestly, I was pretty surprised. I told him only the left one hurt the most because it was the first one to be pierced, leaving the right to not be bad at all. We exchanged a couple more words, and then got on with whatever it was we were doing. Now whenever I go into that particular store, I can’t help but smile.

…Oddly enough, I didn’t feel that foreboding sense of eyes staring at me the during the time I spent at the hospital. Sure, the nurse who put an IV in my arm looked at my arms for said vein, another nurse looked straight at me so I would understand what the preparation entailed (even though I knew what I was getting myself into) and I attracted looks from other nurses whenever I walked down the seemingly long hallway from the room I was in to the restroom and back again, but those were all expected. They were just doing their jobs, making sure I understood, checking in every now and then to see how I was doing, not to mention reminding me that I was under a slight time crunch.

The time crunch being the hour I had to drink three bottles of barium sulfate suspension. I didn’t just pull that name out of my head, that’s actually what it’s called. If you’ve never had any kind of imaging concerning your entrails, barium sulfate suspension helps better bring out whatever pictures are needed of said entrails …I said entrails twice in one sentence, and the first thing that comes to mind is The Black Dahlia Murder. Oh, metal…An hour might not seem like much of a time crunch, but it’s amazing how quick one hour passes on the clock, especially when the barium sulfate suspension you’re drinking isn’t exactly a Dr. Pepper. It’s not the most pleasant thing on the planet to drink, but it isn’t so incredibly bad that you’ll heave. I mean, I did make a “pukey-face” (similar to that of Dean’s expression at roughly 1:08 and again at 1:35 in the Supernatural reference clip at the end of this post), but thankfully didn’t actually puke.

For a minute, I felt like I was in an episode of House. Any minute now, Hugh Laurie will come walking through the door, saying that whatever could be wrong with me (other than what already is) is so incredibly simple to cure, and that an MRI isn’t necessary. If only Gregory House wasn’t fictional…In between pondering the House scenario and watching something about the Freemasons on the History Channel, I noticed that I’d already polished off two of the three bottles, ready, willing and able to slay the third with the same determination. Unfortunately, the same vigor and steadfast will didn’t come into play. The third bottle proved to be my Achilles’ heel, its weapon of choice a barium-and-hunger induced stomach-ache. Luckily, I pulled myself out of my own little hurt locker, made the weakness temporary and eventually finished the third and final bottle. Suck it, barium sulfate suspension.

Upon finally ingesting the last of the bottles, I was lead to the radiology section of the ward…”I walked the ward with you, babe. A thousand times with you.” Oh, Black Veil Brides. I commend you for putting a spin on a Billy Idol classic. Sorry, the music fanatic in me made me do it…I was scanned with a metal detecting wand, reassuring that I didn’t have any metal in my body or on my person. The very first thing that I noticed once I walked into the actual MRI room was that it was extremely cold. That’s the one thing I noticed about hospitals. It’s always cold, except in the actual doctor’s office. Every doctor’s office I’ve been into has always been unseasonably warm. I think it’s something that’s done on purpose to embarrass you, making it just warm enough to make you comfortable enough to want to fall asleep. I’ve either been caught sleeping or was close enough to feel its calming embrace, only to be kick started awake by paranoia.

The entire procedure itself seemed to take longer than the fourty-five minutes I was told it would. I’ve never been one to be claustrophobic, but I have to admit it did feel a little strange. Before any of the procedure even started, headphones were put on my head to cancel out the particularly loud noise the machines made whenever a picture was being taken…When I came home, I was telling my dad about it, and he said that they asked him what his favorite station was, what music did he like. I have to admit while I was kind of jealous, I’m glad that I didn’t have music playing. It would just be a distraction…The first thing that came to mind was Alex from A Clockwork Orange, restrained in the chair during the ‘Ludovico’ scene. Only then did that claustrophobic kind of feeling start to rise in my stomach, quickly replaced by the fleeting growl of hunger. My arms were strapped down so I wouldn’t move, and I had these thin weights on my upper and lower stomach, the areas where the images would be taken. The restraint on my arms and the feeling of the weights weren’t really bothersome because after a while I was sort of used to the numbness, that kind of foot-falling-asleep-feeling, without the aftershock sensation of pins and needles.

After what seemed like hours of falling in and out of real sleep and countless breathing exercises to ensure the proper picture, the MRI was finished. I was then accompanied back to my room, and given my choice of apple juice and saltine crackers. I got through my second pack of crackers and a couple sips of apple juice, only for my IV to be taken out and escorted back to the locker room where the rest of my clothes were. Once I got dressed and such, I made my way back into the waiting room, only to discover that there wasn’t as many people as there were before. I looked at my phone to see what time it was, and to my surprise and dismay, it was almost six ‘o clock.

Three and a half hours.

I wasted somewhere around three and a half hours at the hospital. I hate to use the word ‘wasted’ because it sounds a bit unpleasant and pessimistic, but that’s what it felt like. My entire afternoon was spent drinking barium sulfate suspension, in order to get a better sense of what could possibly be going wrong in my stomach, only to get the answer I somewhat expected several days later…The phone rang on New Year’s Eve, and I found out from my mom (who answered the call), that there was no inflammation whatsoever and that everything was normal…I knew I would get those results, but I suppose it’s better have my time wasted and everything be okay, as oppose to something being wrong. I don’t think my body would be too pleased if something else was wrong with me health-wise. I sure as hell know I wouldn’t.

While it was rather pleasant to be looked at as a normal, respectable member of society (even though I loathe the word “normal”), instead of an outsider, I still don’t really mind too much about what people think. My earlier feelings concerning my snakebites probably sound contradictory, but I wouldn’t be a human being if I didn’t have some flaws. Sure, I do present myself in a respectable fashion and try to always look my best (whether or not I feel as such), but that doesn’t mean I obsess over others’ opinions.  I present myself to the world with respect because if I didn’t value myself, not giving a damn about what I looked like before I walked out the door, then who would? The answer: No one. If you don’t have respect for yourself, it’s a lot harder for people to have respect for you.

On the health and medical front (as with my self-respect), I don’t see that changing any time soon. As much as I hate having Crohn’s Disease, it’s something that makes me unique, while at the same time, frustrates and angers me sometimes. It sucks, but it’s something I have to live with. Regardless of everything, and on a somewhat different note, I have high hopes for 2013. Something that I couldn’t say the beginning of last year.

I’m proud to be an outsider, snakebites and all.

A Very Sleepy Christmas

My bedroom smells like gingerbread, courtesy of the Frosted Gingerbread candle burning on my desk. The living room still smells of the ‘Tis The Season candle my mom bought a week or so ago, where the new Christmas tree (our fourth or fifth one to be exact) can be found along with the Christmas cards we received this year, taped to the doorway leading to the kitchen. Even though yesterday was Christmas, it didn’t feel different from any other day.

I somewhat felt like a little kid again, staying up until early in the morning, waiting for Santa to come, even though I know he wouldn’t make an appearance until I was fast asleep. The only problems with that equation are that there isn’t actually a Santa Claus, I’m (unfortunately) not a child anymore and I wasn’t accompanied by any high hopes for a stranger bearing gifts because the presents were already under our tree. Okay, that’s a lie. I didn’t completely feel like I was five again, but you get where the stereotypical nostalgia comes into play.

I found myself staying up until four in the morning, accompanied by the familiar acquaintances sleeplessness and a stomach-ache. I finally managed to go to sleep, only to be woken up some four hours later. Strangely, it wasn’t that big of a deal, my slumber being interrupted. Usually, it would be because I don’t get enough sleep as it is, but yesterday was different. It was Christmas.

As every year, once everyone was awake, fully or not, it was time to open presents. I opened two boxes, finding inside a really pretty framed painting, a lacy grey top that would be perfect to wear to a New Year’s party (if I had one to go to) and a grey ‘boyfriend’ cardigan I’d seen at Target a couple of weeks ago that I regretted buying until yesterday…Not to mention the money I’d received on Christmas Eve or the day before, and the box of Ferrero Rocher my brother opened before I opened my second box…What can I say? I’m a chocolate lover, and my parents know it.

The rest of my Christmas went as follows:

Sleep, sleep and more sleep.

I fell asleep and woke up at noon or so, only to fall back to sleep. I finally got my ass in gear and got my afternoon started (yes, afternoon). For some reason, I always kind of feel bad if I fall asleep on a holiday (or sometimes any day) for a long period of time, but it wasn’t like I was doing anything. Honestly, I wasn’t. My family wasn’t doing anything for Christmas, other than opening presents, holiday dinner and hanging out. When it comes to Christmas, or any holiday for that matter, my family is usually pretty chill. Nothing special, really, just celebrating it with family and being thankful for what it is we do have, not what we don’t.

All and all, this Christmas was a good one. While it was the first Christmas without my sister, and somehow lacked the cheer it previously had in all my 21 years, but I have no complaints.

…Scratch that. I do have one complaint…

I couldn’t find Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer on any channel. Sure, there was A Christmas Story on for 24 hours as it for as long as I remember, the History Channel having plenty of things on about Jesus (even though it seemed like the contents of said specials concerning Christ should be shown during another time) and an Indiana Jones marathon, but no Rudolph. I proceeded to search the for the good ‘ol red-nose by name on TV, only to find that he won’t be making an appearance until New Year’s Eve, in Rudolph’s Shiny New Year.

Figures. The one time I actually want to watch something that’s Christmas-related, it isn’t even on. Just my luck. Thankfully, New Year’s Eve is only four days away, and the fact that there will be an all day Twilight Zone marathon makes it even better. While Netflix does have the show amongst the endless amount of shows that are featured, it only has seasons 1-3 and 5. After countless hours of watching it earlier this year, I still don’t get why that season is absent. Oh well. Like some things in this vast world, this green-eyed girl may never know.

Even though this Christmas honestly didn’t feel like, well, Christmas, it was still a great one. I would be lying if I didn’t say it was. Granted, there was only one piece of Cheesecake Factory brand cheesecake and no hot apple cider consumed by yours truly, and more than one nap taken, but you get the idea. Whether this year had that particular cheer or not, it doesn’t change the fact that it was a good one at that.

The trademark Ohio snowfall made it all the more sleep-inducing.

‘Curse’ Broken (Winston McCall & The Squirrel Trio)

I stayed up until 3:30 this morning, fighting another temporary bout with my friends, the ever-foreboding sinus headache and not-so-temporary stomach pain (or “tummy troubles” as the little boy on the Culturelle commercial would say). Oddly enough, those obstacles didn’t stop me as they have been for the past couple weeks.

After letting my body and immune system dictate what was going to be accomplished and what wasn’t, they finally took a break. I finally made it to the community college I’ve been meaning to for the last month, and it feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I had been somewhat dreading the whole thing for a while, but there wasn’t really anything I needed to be worried about in the first place. I had taken the test before and knew what it entailed, but I still found myself feeling the jitters and butterflies of everyone’s fleeting friend known as nervousness.

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (wide awake with only 5 hours of sleep), I brushed all that apprehension aside and felt completely and utterly motivated to accomplish the task at hand. I walked through the doors and remembered exactly where I was supposed to go…No guidance needed, yo. My memory is pretty damn good, thank you. Sorry, my inner Jesse Pinkman decided made yet another appearance…The entire test as a whole went pretty well. It took me a while to type in my correct ID number (even though it was right in front of me), but that was just the nerves talking. I felt extremely confident whether I truly believed it or not.

And I had every reason to be…

No more of that old “unsure, putting down, low-self esteem bullshit” (pardon my English). Yes, believe it or not, I have self-esteem issues sometimes. There are times when I get stressed, as everyone does now and then, and feel like I am less than what I am. I used to put myself down pretty hard sometimes, feeling like I wasn’t good enough, even though I knew I was as every good as people said I was. With all that I just said, yes I will admit that those feelings creep up every now and again, but they instantly disappear as quickly as they manifested. Belittling confidence leads to stress, and believe me, the last thing I need is stress. Stress leads to my health getting worse, and my health getting worse isn’t the type of ride I’d like to endure anytime soon.

…I aced it. My results were printed out and the kind lady behind the desk told me I scored 94 out of 100, meaning I am eligible to take the 1010 English course, College Composition I. One below honors College Comp II. I tried to remember the score I had gotten two years ago when I took the same placement test, along with the math placement test. I found the old test score in a drawer of my desk and I scored 65 out of 100. An F…Honestly, the only reason my score was so low was because I seriously wanted to get the hell out of there. It was summer and I wanted to enjoy the weather. Can you really blame me?…This time I was more than motivated to score higher. I was so determined because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to take the Psychology course I’d like to. Plus, it’s winter. I didn’t really want to go out into the cold, although I would rather be cold than hot.

Once I went over my score a couple of times with manic excitement, I made my way outside only to be greeted by freezing cold that is so typical of our Ohio winters. Don’t get me wrong, I still would prefer the cold to the humidity (even though I oddly prefer the headaches the humidity-ridden summer brings as oppose to the month-long colds the winter dishes out), but it was honestly pretty damn cold today. However, I didn’t find myself being bothered by the cold for very long. I sat down on the closest bench and admired the campus, watching a trio of squirrels scamper across the lawn, all the while being serenaded by Parkway Drive’s Winston McCall.

Gotta love metalcore.

All and all, today was a pretty good day. I accomplished a feat that had been pining away in the back of my mind for over a month. Goddamn immune system. As I said before, I feel like there is a huge weight off my chest. I can now register for spring classes, and it’s one less thing I have to worry about. I actually feel optimistic about the future, but at the same time, I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I will do everything that I can do at the moment, and worry about other obstacles when they need to be worried about and deal with them at the appropriate time. It’s as simple and uncomplicated as that, and I couldn’t be happier.

The girl with the raindrop tattoo is now the girl with the optimism boost.

Mind Tricks Or The Plague Of Forgetfulness?

It was around 11 ‘o clock or so when it began to come on. Again.

The routine 11 to 11:30 episode of The Big Bang Theory was an earlier one from the first season, entitled “The Pancake Batter Anomaly”. Even though I knew I more than likely saw the episode before, I didn’t dare touch the remote…Granted, my dad had the remote and honestly, why wouldn’t you want to watch a rerun of Big Bang? It’s one of those shows I can watch and not get sick of…Long story short (and without giving too much away), Sheldon gets sick and Penny is stuck nursing him back to health. How does this particular episode pertain to what I’m currently typing?

Uncanny coincidence.

Sometime in that half-hour, I sneezed. Immediately after that one harmless sneeze, I felt that familiar haze of a sinus headache coming on. Of course. The day before I planned on finally retaking the English test, I start to feel like Death.

When I made the remark to my dad about how that’s just my luck, he told me maybe it’s psychological. Somehow my body is turning the fact that I’m a tad nervous into some kind of cold. Is it really possible for the psyche to turn something so little as a bit of nerves into the start of yet another temporary cold?…I honestly have no idea.

The cause of such random, short-term bouts with the common cold could either all be in my head or the fact that I’ve forgotten my scarf every time I go somewhere. The one thing that might actually be beneficial in the cold Ohio winter has been hanging over my comfy red chair in my bedroom, untouched and unused.

It’s 4:48 a.m. and I can still feel that familiar acquaintance known as headache plague my sinuses. Two decongestants and countless Kleenex, and the product hasn’t changed. I know the better half of me is saying that sleep is probably the best idea at this moment, and it does sound like a pretty nice idea. I want to say that my mind is racing (because it usually is at this time in the morning if sleep eludes me) but that could just be the soreness in my body (goddamn coughing!) and pressure in my sinuses talking. I know it is indeed the troublesome pain talking. I think I will actually give into my better judgement, and sleep this annoyance away.

Is it subliminal mind tricks or the every day action of forgetting?…This green-eyed girl may never know.

My Own Worst Enemy

My body hates me.

I’m more than certain that my immune system is trying to sabotage any and all important goals that need accomplishing. Okay, maybe not any and all goals, but just the one I’ve been trying to make a reality since last Friday.


I woke up at 8 ‘o clock yesterday morning, actually psyched and determined to retake an English test at the community college I plan to attend in the Spring…Yes, it’s a community college, but it’s a college nonetheless…That, however, did not happen. After sitting through a half hour of news stories that I’d heard about the day before, I remembered that Supernatural moved the air time an hour early to 9 ‘o clock. I turned on the respective channel, only to watch a rerun of a season three episode, which wasn’t really a big deal. It’s the kind of show I can watch reruns over and over again without getting sick of it because there’s something that I seem to notice upon the second or third watch, and honestly, it’s always good to refresh your memory.

In what seemed like a matter of minutes, I started sneezing. I could instantly feel that dreaded cloud of the common cold weigh me down. After the sneezing came the sinus headache, which then proceeded into coughing…The same thing happened last Friday (my first attempt at going to the desired destination), only with sneezing and a stomach-ache…I took a non-drowsy decongestant only to wind up falling asleep for a half an hour or so.

By the time I woke up, I felt like my whole day was wasted. Even though that wasn’t the case. Sure, it was noon, maybe 12:30 at the latest (I honestly can’t remember) and I didn’t accomplish the goal I’d been trying to complete since last week, but it’s not a waste of a day if you do what needs to be done to get your day started then chill out and relax, in hopes of feeling better. I did everything I needed to do and other things around the house, then proceeded turn on my Dell and watch something on Netflix.

After watching a long assortment of the paranormal misadventures of Sam and Dean Winchester on Supernatural, using countless Kleenex, and self-medicating with three decongestants, I can say that I do feel a little better. Not much. That sounds horrible because I’ve been trying to feel better the majority of the day and right when I start to feel good, it goes downhill. The fact that I’m only feeling a little better can be blamed for the other evident fact that I cannot fall asleep. Sure, my eyes are starting to get a little heavy and my muscles are sore from coughing, but I don’t feel drowsiness envelop me yet.

And I take that back. Okay, I don’t totally take it back because the feeling just hit me, but you get the idea. The warmth from the heat coming from the vent in my room blowing directly onto me just a couple of seconds ago was honestly making me tired. Not to mention the fact that I’m cold. I have my Emily The Strange blanket my best friend bought me some 8 years ago, but that doesn’t seem to be doing me any justice.

I feel like this whole post I just wrote is about how horrible I felt today…And I did. Sometimes I feel like I should sugarcoat things as far as my health goes because I don’t want to have a sympathy for the devil thing going on, but today was nothing serious. Just a cold, everyone gets them. Unless of course you happen to have an amazing immune system or are some kind of superhero. While the latter is the most absurd of notions, it is far more interesting than the immune system. Now I’m just rambling mindlessly because I’m tired.

It’s 5:44 a.m. on this Saturday morning, sixteen minutes until 6 a.m. The warmth from the vent is making another appearance, and I’m going to take that as a way of my house letting me know I should hit the hay…And by typing what I just did, I think it’s a good idea that I go to bed.

My body is my worst enemy…

Sleep is the best medicine.

Organization Amongst The Chaos

After months of talking about it and countless minutes browsing around the furniture section at Target, (only to find it in the organization section of the store) I found exactly what I wanted.

A bookcase.

A black bookcase that fits almost perfectly on my desk. I say almost perfectly because it takes up the majority of the right side. Despite the fact it takes so much room, it’s a welcome piece of organizational beauty.

I can’t say that my desk was a mess before I purchased the bookcase, but I honestly can’t say that it was tidy either.

Going from left to right:

The framed black and silver scratch board portrait of Ville Valo I did Senior year…In front of the picture is a silver and white bank teller style lamp, a black spider web candle holder that holds sweat bands and bracelets I used to wear when I was twelve, a mug I made in my Art class Senior year (that someone else painted because I wasn’t there) holding a red Coke bottle and more bracelets, a glass skull candle holder where my Burt’s Bees lip balms are kept, and a clear glass block that holds my pens and markers.

My black pinstripe Dell laptop I somewhat received four years ago is in front of such items, along with a polar bear PEZ dispenser from the movie The Golden Compass I named Heisenbear (the only reason I bought it is because it’s a bear). A frosted candle holder (that’s actually used for candles), a pumpkin candle holder, a black and white rabbit whose pattern resembles that of a Ladybug, and a clown named Jared that used to be on the top shelf of my locker in the 8th grade.

An Aspen Matthews figure from the comic book Fathom, another glass candle holder, the fist stack of books I own (ones I’ve already read), a black glass block, harboring miscellaneous items, including my Aviator sunglasses and a bookmark I recently unearthed from when I was in Kindergarten. A Vera Bradley coin purse I received for Christmas two years ago, a gold three-tier candle holder, a black picture frame holding two pictures taken on prom night…In front of it a Lego Eiffel Tower my brother made me, a black iPod speaker, a light Jade colored vase with Koi fish as handles, keeping a paper fan and multiple business cards for the same tattoo shop safe…Lastly, a Jack Skellington jewelry box a friend of mine gave to me for Christmas one year, supporting the second stack of books I own (the ones I haven’t read yet).

All 42 books (yes, I bought three new books a couple of weeks ago at the bookstore), now reside on the four shelves of my new bookcase, with the exception of a poetry book a friend gave me Sophomore year, Edgar Allen Poe and Stephenie Meyer. Those six books are placed on top of said bookcase, my Jack Skellington jewelry box is balanced atop the assorted poetry and Poe, while Meyer’s saga is under the protection of Dean, a Beagle stuffed animal that I received after the accident I had at work two years ago.

The rest of the items I mentioned on my laundry-list of things are still on my desk, with the exception of a couple of items that fit perfectly in the free space of the bookcase.  My frosted candle holder and Aspen Matthews reside in the lower right shelf where one book stood alone, and next to that, under  Between a stack of alphabetized pieces and Stieg Larsson’s trilogy, is my black, white and green Vera Bradley coin purse. My Ladybug rabbit is nestled near smaller books on the upper left shelf, while the Lego Eiffel Tower and Heisenbear rest above…Everything is in a proper, organized place. I never thought I’d say that in regards to my desk.

From Bradbury, Ellis and Poe, to Larsson, Palahniuk and Thompson (and every author in between), the pieces of written word that I obsess over are finally arranged as such, and honestly, I’m feeling pretty good about it. I know it probably sounds lame, but it’s true. I feel better about sitting down at my desk to write now. I actually want to. I have more space. I don’t have to be afraid of the possibility of books falling over, or not having enough room to spread out. I’m comfortable sitting at my desk because everything is indeed organized…

It’s really the little things.

If only everything was this easy to organize.

Universal Glitch

It’s almost 2 ‘o clock in the afternoon on this beautiful Thursday. Oddly enough, the word beautiful isn’t describing the cool, Autumn weather that usually makes itself known this time of year. The word beautiful is for another adjective entirely.

That other adjective is sunny. Sunny and warm.

According to The Weather Channel’s website, the temperature in my little slice of the city is 78 degrees and sunny. Funny to think that it’s Fall, and it’s almost 80 degrees. The majority of the leaves on the Maple tree in my backyard are already in a circular pattern below, with the exception of the red ones still clinging to their branches in the middle and bright yellows holding on near the bottom. The chaise lounge underneath the Maple looks oddly inviting, and yet I haven’t sat in it since Summer…The same thing can be said for my bicycle in the garage…That just might have to change.

Bike ride then sit on the chaise under the Maple, reading Hell’s Angels with a mug of warm apple cider…Sounds like a good idea…I think I might wait until the sun is setting though. I don’t exactly fancy the sun shining in my face while I read.

All this nice weather at the end of October…Maybe there’s some kind of glitch in the universe…It’s the last Thursday in October and it’s sunny and almost 80 outside. Who would’ve thought?

Enjoy what’s here before it’s gone.