Complaint by Numbers

…or a cokehead to, well, coke (or perhaps other cokeheads; you know, birds of a feather…), I’m back to blogging. As that sentence turned out to be far more awkward sounding than I had anticipated, I’ll make this short to spare myself any further embarrassment. 

For some reason, I feel like blogging again. Perhaps its the fact that my boyfriend (with whom I live) has a new job that keeps him out of the (tiny) apartment from 6:30 a.m. until sometime between 8:00 and 8:30 at night; perhaps its the fact that my cats have stopped listening to my bitching, or perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve eaten way too much today, but I feel like voicing my complaints on the intarwebs. And yes, I say that facetiously. Regardless (not to be confused with irregardless, which is both a made up word and a pet peeve of mine), here I am, and since I am shirking a large number of duties — dishes, some German work, vacuuming, other menial tasks — I’ll probably continue blogging for a while.

Also, I have trapped a spider under a glass and a can of tuna (don’t ask me why I felt it needed to be weighted, but if that fucker gets out, I might cry). When Matt gets home, he has some spider relocating to do.