08.16.04 - 2:37 am

my fingers are dusty. they feel dry and awkward. dry wall. nails. 409 glass and surface cleaner. rubber grip hammers. mission to mars. justin cackling in the background.

my room is still trashed. but at least the rest of the house is finally presentable. justin stepped up and completely cleaned out the refridgerator. what he found was 32 gallons of rotting food. a 32 gallon bucket filled nearly to the brim with rotting broccoli. molding hotdogs. dried cow blood. odors. filthe. disease.

this was our refridgerator.

on word from our neighbor the spy, bowls of baking soda and charcoal are now spread in strategic locations in and around the cooling device. it will only be a matter of time before the odor is completely neutralized. it doesnt stand a chance.

my room is next. i struggle with wading through boxes of papers. memories. experiences. there are things that i carry with me house to house, year to year that i go months if not years before seeing again. these are things that do not have any sort of day to day significance to me. but they are invaluable. they are who i am. these are manifestations of who i was and where i came from. these are things i need to stumble across at least once a year to remind me of my life. remind me so i dont forget.

i love my life. i love remembering. i love enjoying it as i rummage through leftovers.

and now behind this chair i sit at, more garbage remains to be organized. shelved. boxed. and stashed.

its time for some arrangment changes.