Right at this moment there is a middle-aged woman of indeterminate (to me) Hispanic descent banging on the door of the apartment next door. There's a kid with her, and they've been at it for a good fifteen minutes. By "been at it" I mean the banging. Oh. That clarification made it worse. You're gross. This is your fault. Anyway I'm not sure whether to Google translate, "OBVIOUSLY NO ONE IS HOME BYE" and go read it to them or to be a kind person and offer to help if that's what they need. The problem is that I suspect that "helping" might mean babysitting the kid until whoever is obviously not home shows up and I have no way of knowing when that might be and I'm pretty sure the kid is the same one I caught peeking in the window a few months ago. I'm trying to stay away from dark thoughts about dead neighbors on the other side of my wall but it's really, really difficult.

The other thing that's been difficult for the last couple of months has been Every thing. Or, not difficult, but just. Meh. Like, I was going to do a face mask earlier and I thought: "Ugh, though. I have to put it on. And then I have to take it off." So I didn't do a face mask, I played a knockoff Pokemon game for three hours instead. And that's pretty much been the theme of Being Lindsay lately, and it sucks. Sometimes I just suck. 

But I did get the laundry done, and also I colored my hair. So I guess that's been the theme of Being Lindsay lately, long periods of demotivation sprinkled with some good things. Like, for example, my new job is pretty great. I like it. And I finally bought and built a shelf, so now the enormous pile of life debris that used to live in the corner is... um, on a shelf. So that's good. But I feel like tiny little baby steps such as finally getting rid of the two bags of clothes I decided to donate weeks ago shouldn't be the main things I'm accomplishing. I feel like those things should be a given. And then the Real things I have to do have somehow all lumped themselves together into one giant thing that I can't bring myself to touch. 

I'm so annoyed at how it sounds to try and articulate my blah, because I'm so lucky. Every time I walk down the street with bags of groceries I feel incredibly privileged, you know? I have the means to nourish myself. And actually, just as I wrote that I decided that will be my mantra as I attempt to break apart the giant scary lump and deal with things one at a time: I have the means to nourish myself. 

In other news, the weird weather graced us with another beautiful weekend and we thoroughly enjoyed it while suppressing nervous thoughts about sweaty polar bears. After work on Friday I did some aimless wandering around several retail establishments, none of which made any money off of me. When Diego got out of work we ate falafel at a place that was new to me and then went and saw "Room," which was excellent and I highly recommend. It did take me twenty minutes to place the actress who played Jack's mom (the daughter from United States of Tara) because I can almost never remember actresses or which bands sing what songs and am generally uncool about most things, so it's possible that the plot took some wild turn while I was distracted but otherwise the filmmakers followed the book and it was really, really well done. On Saturday we went to the park, and got legitimately hot while we were there. We looked at the new sculptures, I pretended to try to interpret them, and then we looked at the water for a long time. THEN we went for sangria and tapas at an adorable tiny Spanish place by the train whose one bad review on Yelp said "Worst Mexican food I ever ate."

Guys, sorry, I'm just nervously typing because the people are still out there banging. I think I heard my landlord's voice, though, and Diego's on his way home. So don't worry, there are actual adults involved just in case something is going on that requires such people. You know, people who don't consider having clean clothes and hair that is a different color than it was when she woke up to be a fully productive day because if she thinks about the Actual Things she has to do she thinks she might throw up.

Monday Confession because I didn't write Sunday Confessions yesterday: On Saturday we had brunch with a friend of Diego's that I've never met before and I said, quote, even though I don't need to write "quote" because you'll already know that it's something I said because 1) I just wrote "I said," and 2) You are not blind (I don't think) and will be able to clearly see the quotation marks I'm going to put around the thing that I said - here, I have to interrupt myself interrupting myself to say that I went all the way back to the beginning of this sentence and read it all the way back to that last part where I said, "to put around the thing that I said," and I realized that you might be confused and think that all of this is what I said. It isn't. I got carried away because I really just wanted you to know that the thing I'm about to tell you I said is exactly what I said, word for word. I suppose I could delete all of this and just use the word "verbatim" instead. But that isn't very much fun. 

This is what I said (and also, just to remind you in case you forgot because it's been a while since we started, this is the confession part of this Monday Confession): "I'm not HUNGOVER. I'm just sick because I drank too much yesterday." Which I'm sure a very many people have said in like, a funny joking sort of way? You know? But I said it as like, a real argument. And I said it in the voice of a petulant child. An irritated, hungover child. 

Hm. That sort of makes it sound like I was an unhappy camper at brunch, and I wasn't. It was quite nice, I had eggs on a biscuit. I'll show you a picture sometime. 

Today I started my new job and everybody is very nice. Also, I got to read a lot of interesting things and I'm going to share one of my favorite ones here because while I'd really like to write down some of the more poem-y things inside my head I just don't have the brainergy (brain energy) at this very moment in time. Or for the last long bunch of moments in time, yes, I know, it's on my list of things to Be Better About. Also I have to make grilled cheese sandwiches in a few minutes because when you let me pick dinner I pick grilled cheese EVERY TIME. Almost every time. Sometimes I pick pierogies. SPELLCHECK, LEARN POLISH. You're a disappointment to your father. 

Anyway here is the thing (photos link back to their sources): 

Google "The Deep Dark, Garrett and Brown" and read about it because I'm out of those things that you use to describe other things with.