After scraping dead mouse off the bottom of death can I bagged it up to take to my parent's house. No way was I reaching in the can to wash it. Power washing it down in the backyard. Dad threw ammonia in and went for the bleach. Had to remind dad not to mix bleach and ammonia. That's how death can kills you too.

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Round two of dealing with the mice in my apartment. This time it fell into the empty garbage can. Probably about two weeks ago. I don't think I want that garbage can anymore.

I don't have kids, but I feel like working from home with retired parents is very similar. I can't remember how many times I've had to tell my dad I'm in a meeting. He even once asked if the chicken was finished cooking. How should I know? I'm not the one cooking it.

Continuation of things my professor said:

House is being cleaned. I prefer pestilence.

Boys are boys until they are 17 or 18 and then they are called men. Women are girls until they are 76.

As a bookbinder I can say I have never once used tartar sauce. So I have some questions...

Found in parent's basement time capsule: my college notebooks. Had a history professor who said some awesome gems. Here's a smattering:

The trouble with trouble is that is starts as fun.

In an insane world, what is a sane response?

Ebrill boosted

So glad I did 3.5 hours of research for two lines of it to be used. I provided about 50 pages worth of information. Sigh.

The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.

Kate Chopin, The Awakening

I am super glad my parents saved these 4 random socks for 12 years. Moved them 350 or so miles and kept safe for all this time. What a relief.

Update: it's all been bon jovi. No real surprise there.

In other news the amount of terrible teenage girl poetry I'm finding is disturbing. All written by me, of course.

Went from streaming on spotify to the tape. Because I'm a good archivist. Old school is always better.

I'm in my parent's basement going through boxes of stuff they moved here when they sold the house I grew up in. I discovered a mix tape I made. Actually able to play it on the cd/tape/radio player I purchased about 1998. First song, of course, is Bon Jovi. Because I'm a good Jersey girl.

What were you doing at 3:45 this morning? Oh nothing. Just catching a mouse. Country girl skills do come in handy living in the city.

You know how young kids scare the crap out of their parents by randomly staring at the parent while said parent is trying to sleep? It turns out that you can still scare the crap out of your parent by doing this as an adult. Sorry mom.


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