Everyday Matters, 15 June 2007.

(The saddest day.)

home is where the heart breaks.

sometimes, i think, maybe, things are prettier here than they are anywhere else.

stop! don’t do it! no, really! don’t!

my head is so fucked up. and i once again cannot deal with capitals.

so. i go into work at the b&n at 330 after having worked til 1 at the archives only to find out that WHOA I AM NOT SCHEDULED TODAY BUT TOMORROW. i don’t know what to do. i’ve scheduled my week around working TONIGHT. blah. fucking hell. i did post a sign telling people to call me if they’s be wantin’ some mo’ ‘ours, yo. because i’d gladly give that up.

i’d give it up so that i have more time to eat fried chicken and watermelon at elaina’s funeral.

chicken. watermelon.

so, yesterday i had to run a lot of errands for work– drop off summer reading club pamphlets to various elementary schools, take some more photos of things close up for our where in the world board, go to the dollar tree to pick up these cootie catcher kits, and to walmart for photo developing. well, on my way out of the walmart/sam’s/lowe’s plaza area where the cooler stores are on the other side of the street (ie. target, goodys, staples, dollar tree) i had a stop sign that i couldn’t even make it to, because i was laughing while digging out my camera whiling parking in the closest spot to the stop sign.

see, someone had added sticky letters underneath the word STOP and this is what it said:

and, of course, i had to get one with at least one of the shopping signs in the background:

so, at alex’s work (kmart) the other night, i guess they tagged a bunch of jones soda 4 pack bottles for THIRTY CENTS. and alex gets a DISCOUNT. so, on my way to work, when kmart opened, i pretty much bought them all. i got like 20 cases for 6$. so we’ve been drinking them like mad, plus i’ve given some away. but i need to stop drinking them because i’m going to get fat.

also, i’ve been treating the fortunes under the cap like a map to my life for the next week or so. they all seem to fit. so unbelievably well.

i almost got through a song on guitar hero on hard. i was promised 5 uninterrupted minutes of making out if i got through it. i got 89%. (fucking orange button is the devil!) i did, however, receive consolation kisses. teehee.

my period is killing me like you wouldn’t believe. i’ve never felt this way before. i don’t even have cramps. just this horrible pressure inside of me and in my cooch. it hurts to sit, to move, to live. so i’m glad i got to come home from work. bleeding is the suck. i need money to go to a girly dr, fo’ realz, yo.

we are going to go the store in a minute.

it just rained some. the air is cooler. the wind is nice. i like the way it makes everything smell.

oh, last night, after i got home and showered, i went to lay down to take a NAP and i slept from about 6pm til 515 THIS MORNING. omg, wtf?! i guess i needed it. alex and i watched dead like me, went to breakfast and played guitar hero before i had to go to work.

i like listening to kidd kraddick in the morning.

no, really, i have to stop drinking jones soda.

we’re going to order some of alex’s photoshop creations and some of our photographs in larger and posterish sized proportions from snapfish. has anyone ever ordered from snapfish.

phone, fools, lata.

oh, i’m going to take pictures of our plants. woot.

outtie.

a little later…

whoa, square melons:

*disclaimer* all photos involving watermelon and/or chicken are not mine. thanks.

oh, swoon.

Dream home? Yes, is the answer. This is absolutely everything I’d ever look for in a home. This is one of the oldest homes in our town. It’s gorgeous. I hate prefab, cookie cutter, factory same ol’ same ol’. I want something with history. With ghosts in its bones. Not creepy, scary ones, but the ones that you feel, that someone lived here, that this was their home, that it held them and helped to make them who they were at that time. I really think, that everyone leaves pieces of themselves behind in places that are special to them. I think I have left pieces of myself behind in a few places.

I wish I had money. Can I win the lottery? I’ve never played. Maybe I’ll play tomorrow. Can some secret relative die and give me all their money? Can I sell a painting for $200,000?

I’ve always ached for a home more than anything. I never had one, I know this is why. I feel teary and nostalgic just thinking of this. I hate thinking of things I know it is impossible for me to ever have. Alex and I always say that we’ll never have a home of our own. But, oh, how I wish. How I can hear footsteps in the empty rooms.

(This house is actually about 1/2 a block away from our old house that I was in love with.)

While I would change some color schemes, and some minor things, like that one tiny room down there with the bricks and concrete (Do you think it’s the room that that long tall staircase leads to on the left side of the house?) and those sinks in the huge bathroom, boo! (I left out a few photographs like, the laundry room and the attic area that they were remodeling, it seemed.) And oh, I’d put a mail slot right in the door (I loved having that). But, oh, it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Crystal door knobs, the wood, the detailing, that little curvature at the top of the stairs, the fire places, the windows the molding, the porches. Etc . . .

A million stars, 11:11, dandelions, eyelashes, birthday candles, fireflies . . .

On a quiet street.

Today, I walked/drove around town for a little over two hours taking pictures of things like buildings, etc. super up close for this “Where in the world?” project for mystery summer at the library. As I was driving around I saw a little side street that I realized, I’d driven by probably hundreds of times and never even noticed. When I got off work, I decided to drive around a bit. I used to do this a lot in neighborhoods in which I’d like to live to see if there were any houses for rent. So, I took this little side street and was excited to see a real estate sign pointing down it because, well, I love houses and obsessing over them. I especially love this if they are old. So, I was excited to find the house at the end of the street, a street with no outlet that ended in houses, but no caldesac, it just ends at door steps, or rather, old concrete stairs that lead up to doorsteps.

This is the house that is for sale:

It is decidedly quaint and charming and slightly expansive. I have come to the conclusion that i like it. So, after I took this loverly photograph, I had to turn around with no caldesac so, I pulled into the driveway across the street from this house and BAM! I didn’t hit anything. But there was a “FOR RENT” sign on the porch post. I parked, got out and pretty much stalked it.

This is the front:

The porch stairs and porch are not n the most spectacular condition, but for some reason, I find this charming. It seems essentially sturdy, needs a paint job. I don’t know if you can tell, but those windows in that little nook that juts out are delightful, they have a pattern in them.

It has a fireplace and more delightful windows!

Window ACs are not so happy. But it is what I have now. Also UPSTAIRS, ooh. Also, A HOUSE.

This is the other side, the left side:

I’ve decided that since the gate is open and there is an odd red orb that it is haunted. Another plus! Ghosts fascinate me. I did not walk into the fenced back yard. Alex would have and he would have called me a pussy for not doing it and grabbed my hand and pulled me back there.

It also has creepy basement windows. I don’t think I could go into the basement. Our old house had a basement and it scared the begeezus out of me.

Gorgeous tree:

I fell in love with the outside, as I often do with places. The sign said that it had new appliances and had been remodeled. I hope this means kitchen and bath which are nearly always the downfall of old and beautiful places. I called about it, no one answered. I left a message. I hope they call back. Because even if I can’t afford it, I require to see its interior. And, well, whatta youknow, MAYBE I CAN afford it.

A girl can dream.