Ugh

The longer I go without posting, the easier it is to be all "Meh... I haven't posted in 400 days... what's another day to add to that? No one will care." Perhaps this is true. Perhaps not.

Our good friend Molly stayed with us on our pea-green superfuton last WEEK, which was pretty much the greatest. She can be our fifth futon roommate anytime, or all the time. She even got up with me at FIVE in the MORNING to go on walks before I had to leave for work. That is hardcore. I went for a walk by myself at the five in the morning yesterday, and it was the lame. I even carried my pepper spray in plain view because, even though I've never really been approached or even have a reason to think I might be, I'm still scared some dude will come up and try to sweet-talk me and then throw me to the ground on the side of one of the busier streets in Downtown Long Beach. I'm scared of the bums, too, but I was thinking on my walk alone yesterday about how it's really way less likely for a bum to rape you, because rape is really all about power and control, and obviously if bums were lusting after power and control then they wouldn't be bums. But I steer clear generally, regardless of this thought, because bums are oftentimes crazy.

I did not get up at five this morning to walk because Jesse and I stayed up late(r) last night to put together the new BED FRAME he got off craigslist last night. This is the first time I won't be sleeping on a mattress on the floor since I moved out of my parent's house!!! This also signifies the beginnings of bruised shins and stubbed toes, because while it doesn't matter how hard you round the corner of your floor-mattress in the morning, it really does matter when the corners are made of wood. Or particleboard. Still. I have to give the hubbin props - when I got home from sewing class, the bed was fully paid, transported, and assembled in the bedroom. All I had to do was help shove the mattress on top. The best husbandly thing EVER. I bet now I have to cook actual meals for like a whole two weeks in gratitude. P.S., that may not be the best form of repayment. Just a warning, you who eat my cooking.