Siddity in the City

This has been an awfully odd few weeks. After much (minor) drama and moving around, I’m finally settled. It certainly wasn’t all bad. I spent a week with M, bless her, and we saw Kiki and the Man a few times, the dears. Kiki, whether he realized it or not, delivered a lesson in heterosexual privilege which I have taken to heart, and the whole trip was worth it, for that alone. I watched practically the entire last season of Footballers Wives late at night. We saw a local production of Neil LaBute’s Fat Pig. I ate a lot of buffalo chicken breast salad with Walden Farms Blue Cheese Dressing. What? It was delicious.

I’m sharing a place. Because I just adore chaos, I moved in while the old roommate was still moving out. My roomie is a nice girl with cats, plural. Very demanding, affectionate cats.

For shits and giggles, I got an Aerobed, and covered it with white sheets and blankets.

Who wants to lay the first bet on how long the bed lasts before I come home to find a coupla furballs mewling in a pile of fuzz-covered sheets and deflated latex?

I’m freelancing. I’ve rejoined the gym-going masses. It seems I am finally getting on with the business of living.

Now all I need is a job.