My cats love to keep me company, especially when I cannot move around so easily. Today is going to have to be an easy-going day. I really did myself in with that shoveling stuff. I did my best to stretch and keep limber while shoveling, but there was just so much of it. I mean… what? 30 feet of walkway with four feet of snow on it, thanks to the plows adding a foot? That’s 120 cubic feet of snow. I moved it all by myself.
And that’s why I refuse to let my parents pay that man who only offered to come shovel when I’d cleared all that up and we’d gotten four more inches. Summarily, in a few words, I am pissed the fuck off by that dude.
My father gives him excuses. ‘Oh, he’s not able-bodied.’ Then why is he doing outdoor work under the table instead of going to his cushy day job? That’s what God wants to know, Andre. Why not just pay your fucking taxes like a good little boy? Instead of taking advantage of the Burgesons and going out to Smuggler’s Wharf on their dime in January when you did shit all to clear the walkways. You dug out the car and a path to the front steps. Congratulations. That was not worth $60. In fact, it wasn’t worth $80. My parents forgot they forwarded you $20 when you were on empty. I did not forget.
I think $80 should have been enough to get the whole walkway cleared, if you ask me. Yes, it was an immense amount of snow, but it was mostly virgin snow. And, you didn’t even find the fucking sidewalk. You just shoveled where the grass was to make it easier on you. I found the sidewalk and fixed that.
I gotta shovel again even though my body screams in agony and protest. My back does not want to comply. I’ve been using this neo hippie fair trade ‘achy muscle balm’ I found at Wegmans. It works pretty nicely. It’s by Biggs & Featherbelle. I like the name Featherbelle, that’s how I remembered it. It’s got all the same stuff as Icy Hot or Biofreeze except I think it’s more pleasant, overall, and works better than both. I would know, I live on that stuff and have for decades. It’s what I use instead of Tylenol to get through especially painful days.
Except today. I’m going to take a Tylenol, because the driver of the moving truck just told me he’ll take a debit card. I need to clear the walkway so that they have an easier time getting everything into the house. They’re due in 2.5 hours, so I have a little time, and I probably only need to clear the driveway and the walk to the back door, anyway, at least before they get here. I’ll have to try to get the rest after they’re done, probably.
I’m worried because my disabled cat is going to get cold with all that in-and-out. They have 55 some odd boxes to move in as well as my bed, some more bed frames that I happened to have, book shelves, entertainment centers, TVs, all my books and movies and video games and gaming systems. It’s a lot of shit, I must say. Nothing of true value, just cumulative value. Nostalgic value, really. I like odd video games that most people don’t play, like Geom Cube and Katamari. I play Halo sometimes, but… eh. BL3 is better. It’s brighter and funnier by far.
The Borderlands franchise is, summarily, amazing in my world. I love that they made it silly. I love silly. I love that it’s cel-shaded. It’s bright and beautiful. And silly. My favorite things all in one place. And I get to shoot shit in the head.
I think my favorite thing to do in Halo is obscene by most standards. I love match-making. And using the default gun. That’s right. The gun nobody likes that’s for noobs that don’t know what they’re doing. ‘It’s a trap!’ as Admiral Akbar will tell you. The fantastic thing about that gun, it’s a machine gun, right? I don’t even care what kind of gun it is. It is not highly accurate and the damage is pretty mediocre and I know that. I use it for two reasons: it screams ‘noob’ and if you empty an entire clip into someone, their shield drops. ‘Ah, but then you run out of shots!’ they say.
That’s not a problem if you’re dodging and weaving right up to them to pike them in the head with your knife.
I tell you what… by the end of the match, they take me out as often as possible because who does that? (Probably all of you, now. Awesome. <3)
I do it in BL3, too, honestly. Drop the shields, stab ’em in the head. It’s not violent! It’s a video game. And it keeps me from becoming violent, too, I’ll add, for all those people out there that say violent video games create killers. They don’t. Antisocial bullshit creates killers. Toxic masculinity. Failure to accept reality, which is as follows, according to God: 5.5 billion people on planet Earth are gay.
That’s a lot of people. In fact, it’s the majority. 5/7ths of the world’s population likes the same gender. Because of rape culture, we’re all confused. We’re chasing these washboard abs and these flat bellies and perfect silhouettes… because we’re gay. Well, I’m not gay. I know that. But a lot of people are and I accept that as truth.
I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of. Neither does God, actually. Do you really think he made a mistake that large? I don’t. He’s God. He’s supposed to be all-powerful and stuff. He’s my buddy. My dad. My best friend. ‘My partner in crime.’ You know that saying about friends only really being friends if they help you bury a dead body? It’s like that, but instead of burying people, I’m bringing them back from the grave.
My parents are hanging by mere threads. They are going to die if I don’t save them from themselves and their shitty diet. Their diet full of grains, sugar, and dairy. It’s killing them and has been their entire lives and they didn’t even know it. I’ve got my mom switched over, but now I have to convince the old man that fake dairy is delicious. I have to get him off that milk addiction he’s got so ingrained that he reaches for a glass of milk every time he feels bad.
He’s perpetuating the cycle.
Even his doctors know it. They tell him not to eat butter and instead eat margarine. What kind of medical bullshit advice is that? Plant-based butter tastes better and has far more nutrients in it. And he can’t even tell the difference. He made me go on a silly quest for sea bass and then my mom threw it in a pan on medium heat, frozen. I’m like… uhh… do you really each of those filets is $12 a piece? Do you realize you’re ruining that, woman?
She can’t stand at the stove for ages right now. Her back hurts too much. She’s bent forward too far, partly from eating crap that just packs on the pounds and makes her insides go haywire. So she tries to set it and forget it, as the famous phrase goes for those of us who watched way too many infomercials with insomnia. I took over and added fake butter and sauteed that thing until done, ripping it apart to cook evenly faster.
My dad ranted and raved about how good it was. He had no idea it wasn’t real butter. I didn’t tell him. I’m not going to, either. I’m just going to surreptitiously replace his dairy with non-dairy. I can’t fudge the milk up, of course, but I can disrupt him in every other way. In fact, he thinks my fake cheese pizza is pretty good, anyway. You want to sneak veggies into your children? Try plant-based butter and cheese, my friends. And plant-based pasta, too.
In fact, give up the grains entirely and you’ll find you’re much less cranky overall. Your entire family. Even oatmeal. Yeah, I know. It’s easy and tasty. I even turned it into a donut-like experience with a waffle iron and some fats. I think that’s the real reason God took my stuff away for five months: so I had to learn to live without a waffle iron. I was eating too much oatmeal and not enough nutrients in general. I wasn’t even eating enough to menstruate. That’s how bad it is.
I still don’t because my body is still trying to produce the required enzymes. Working out is helping. A.k.a. shoveling the walkway, moving stuff around to try to make room for my shit that’s arriving in just two hours. I don’t think I’ll be doing a great job of it, but I’ll do my best and it’ll have to do. I’m trying to make it so it all can fit in my apartment. Not that I have much in my apartment, but my cats have an entire room right now. Oh yeah… we’re getting our cat towers back. ❤ They’ll be so happy. We’ve had those most of their lives. They’ve really missed them.
I have a couple duplicate items now. I’ve bought some things that I already had in the truck that’s coming, like a heated blanket. My cats adore having a heated blanket, I’ll tell you. It was bought for me, but they took it over, of course. You do realize cats own everything they can see, right? The trick is, if you have more cat furniture than people furniture, they’ll use the cat furniture and leave the people furniture alone.
I still won’t have a couch after all this. I gave it away to a friend and their cats, who adore it verily. I’m so glad, too. Even though I cannot buy the same couch again, I’d like to go couch shopping with my beau. It’s something we’ll probably use a lot so I want us to both be happy with it. Besides, it didn’t fit in the truck. A lot of other things did, but not a couch, especially not the Talia I had.
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I loved this couch beyond measure but honestly, I’d rather have a real leather couch. This is not real leather and it just doesn’t last. You’d think it’s because of my cats, but no. It’s because of people getting sweaty on my couch — and not in the sexy way, either. It got discolored from a belt, it got tarnished by unwashed bodies that were too warm in the space available. That’s what happens when one has roommates that don’t know how to take care of things yet.
Now it’s used by two awesome cats, the lovely Ozzie and Gwendolyn. ❤ ❤ ❤
Anyway, I finally have the gumption to go move a few things before the movers get here with my stuff. I need to make room for all the boxes, if I can, amongst all the books and book shelves that I live next to because my mom is a pure bibliophile.
Bibliophile, as defined by moi:
A monster that eats books voraciously, devouring them as quickly as they are obtained.
Angel-Sansara 