they started towing people from the bank that try to park there overnight. what a crock of shit. what do they care who parks there when the bank's not even open? crock of shit, i tell you. i'm sure it is all the fault of The Man. something else pissing me off: i can't figure out how to make icons like the trendy teenagers. with their tiny text and precise borders. if some elijah-wood-hobbit-fancying-13-year-old ninny can make a fancypants livejournal icon, why can't i?
today when i got home i had this intense feeling of contentment. i looked around me and took in my surroundings and i was overwhelmed with a feeling of satisfaction. i have a place i can more or less call my own, and good food to eat, and all i had ahead of me was curling up in a warm bed with a book or something* after having whatever the heck i pleased for breakfast (which turned out to be milk and ginger snaps) and that when i woke up, i could make myself an entire pot of kraft macaroni and cheese and just thinking about that i felt at peace. later in the day in the shower i was contemplating if that is lame; i thought about how earlier in my life i would have seen myself as a sad hermit for not wanting to go anywhere or do anything. i may feel that way tomorrow, i don't know. but right about now i seem to not want to go anywhere or do anything. i like things easy. i like my totally unfulfilling, easy job which allows me to have all the things i have. yikes. frightening. pleasure in a little blue box with orange writing.
i would like to give a shout-out to all the happy pagans in my life, past, present, and future. i need more communality/conviviality. someday i hope to own a house where i can have grungy, uncosmopolitan parties that give everyone present a feeling of belonging. except the people we didn't invite, ha ha. that is a joke. i am kidding.
oh my god two weeks until taxes are due. time to panic.
*"or something": the soap opera digest Days of Our Lives retrospective. now don't go giving me that Drake Hogestyn eyebrow. everyone has their guilty pleasures.