pee-stained carpets & the welcome-home shit

hi.  i’ve been trying to write a new story, but i’m sort of having an identity crisis… a writer.  not in real life.  but i feel like my style is changing & i’m finding it boring, & i want to get back to my roots.  my sudden fiction, the gothic or sexual imagery, & me wanting to try something new.  if its not experimental, i find it to be stale.

in other news, i am feeling like the ice queen.  i have much love for people & if you saw the way i react when i see a baby or a puppy, you would want to pretend you didn’t know me.  no, i love the people i like, but i don’t want an animal.  i have no heart for the full time job of caring for a dog or cat.  & they said that all of your friends were going to start having babies, & husbands, & blah blah blah, there went every conversation.  but they were wrong!  because its really about the pets.

look, i like animals.  my current job allows people to bring in their animals (plantware = animal friendly, apparently), & so you could say i work beside a beautiful, soft blond mutt & on occasion, run into a meowing, purring fat cat.  but petting it & scratching behind its ears is not the same as pet hair all over my clothes.  & my couch & then its in my mouth because its floating in the air.  (i have lived with animals for many years & this is a sad fact of life.)

the extra incentive of going for walks & getting outside would be a plus, except in the cold Virginian winter, where my full time job is hibernating hermit.  a cat is easier, but they jump up on kitchen counter tops & walk wherever they please…..& cleaning the cat box never gets less degrading.  so, all this probably sounds like EXCUSES, EXCUSES.


& to that i say, meh.  i have lived with the heroes, & i have dealt with it.  i have lived through pee-stained carpets and the welcome-home shit and hair in the mouth.  i’m not very motherly to begin with, so i’ve got to save whatever i got for the kickass baby i’m going to have.  or maybe mr. c will just get extra spoiled.



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