I don’t know, I kind of suck at life. Tonight I did the laundry for the first time since I was single. Ben usually does it, or maybe sometimes I’ll just carry stuff down with him, but he’s really in charge of that. He knows which washers and dryers are the new ones, which act up all the time, and he’ll tell me where to put stuff. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t really even do the laundry before. At one point I was buying new underwear every time I ran out. I had a bunch. Now they’re all full of holes or they’re too small. I remember when I first moved out of my house. My first laundry day as an adult, I put my laundry basket on my skateboard and skated up the block to the Launderland with one foot in front of the basket and one foot behind, holding the top down and kicking my way up the hill. And just as I started to overheat from skating so funny, it started to drizzle and I thought that maybe I would survive. To drive the point home further, the sky cleared for when I coasted down the hill with my clean laundry between my legs.
I’m sitting on the couch watching “Adam and Steve.” I find that I’m only able to enjoy romantic comedies about gay men. I think it’s because I’m a feminist but the only time I can watch two people making out on TV and not think that it’s going to end badly is when it’s two guys. Not even lesbians. Girls are too stupid and/or disenfranchised to make a relationship work. It’s tragic.
I got up to check on my artichoke and it was mush. I have a feeling we wouldn’t spend so much money on food of I didn’t try to cook it so often. Most of our groceries end up in the trash on account of me trying to feed myself. It’s pathetic and infuriating. Now I’m disappointed, worrying about money and hungry at the same time. To make matters worse the Jamaicans downstairs have their door open, and the best smelling food in the universe is being advertised to the whole 300 building. Ever since Ben figured out how to cook meat I’ve had to fend for myself most of the time. What a bummer.
“Bummer.” What a crazy word. One time my aunt had a psychotic break and she called me looking for a friend I’d had in middle school. She was under the impression that my old friend could help her find her way beck into reality. I told her that she probably couldn’t, and I didn’t even know that girl anymore. “Bummer” she’d replied and hung up the phone. Every time I think of the word ‘bummer’ I think of her.
I guess I’ll just eat some crackers or something.