What A Drag

No, Spawn has not taken to purchasing sequined gowns, stilettos, and really big wigs. In fact Spawn hasn’t been home in almost a month. Spawnette has been gone this week as well and to top it off, my mom left for ten days and my longtime boyfriend decided he could no longer do the long distance relationship thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed the slovenly lifestyle I’ve been living this week. I come home from work, throw on shorts and a T-shirt, and have Cap’n Crunch for dinner if I want to. The TV stays off and there is always a book or twenty-seven to keep me occupied for the quiet evenings at home. Coop is with me…..wherever I go…..following, following, always there…..and he’s great company. Never demanding (unless his food bowl is empty); always with a kiss on the end of his tongue. But I must say that without my mother, the spawn, and the Man around providing me with inspiration and awkward situations to write about I’ve come to the realization what a big bore I am.

I. Am. Boring.

I have yet to do something to make myself giggle. I don’t roll my eyes at myself. I don’t tell myself I’m gonna take my phone away if I don’t start talking to me in a better tone of voice. I don’t complain about what’s for dinner and stomp my foot in a fit of anger because something on the plate is green. I don’t make excuses to avoid doing the dishes and I actually brush my teeth and go to bed when I’m supposed to without being told fourteen times that it’s way past my bedtime.

I. Am. Boring.

I need a hobby. A hobby that takes me out of the house. Out of the house in something other than cargo shorts, Vans, and a T-shirt advertising Guinness. Something that does not take place at the retirement center six blocks from the house. (Although those velvet paint-by-number classes look fun; everyone needs a velvet Elvis!) I enjoy photography but haven’t had the opportunity to hone my skills lately. SHIT…that huge glob of mendacity just disgorged itself from my lips, didn’t it? That is what my father, in his all-encompassing wisdom would have called “an excuse”.

G-R-E-AAAAAA-T. I hate it when I’m right. I hate it when those light bulb moments take place illuminating my self-deception.

I. Am. Not. Boring.

I. Am. Lazy.