Blah blah blah

A bunch of these darling little Asian Ladybugs have established residency in my apartment. As I sat on my couch the other day I looked up to observe one... two... three, four... twenty? of the little lost souls dotting the perimeter of the room where the ceiling met the wall. Since then I have unfurled the shades only to find them nestled innocently within them, or clustered in tiny groups of three or four in odd corners, congregating briefly before their certain fate.

I've been moving them around tonight as I clean, from the dusty tabletop to the slick surface of a CD, plucking cat hairs off of them as I go. Some have buzzed busily around lightbulbs, others have become temporary objects of interest to the cats.

In other news I'm drinking more of that ass-kicking cider. It's sorta the bomb. May have to take another jaunt south to pick up some more over the weekend.

Also, I've been rearranging furniture. The goal is to establish some kind of workable space for a studio. Ish. Have decided I do not want to work upstairs in what has become a giant walk-in closet/junkroom. It's just not going to work. Something about the temperature (cold) and the crooked floor (haven't measured the degree to which it's off, but I know it's significant) make it... well, uncomfortable. Also there's only one window that faces out to the trashy neighbor's house and driveway.

My bedroom floor is also crooked. The other day I decided to switch the position of my bed due to the fact that I continued to be plagued by this feeling that I was slightly - rolling to one side? So now my feet are ever so slightly elevated above my head - I thought that made more sense than the other way around. If I'm being honest I have to say I've been sleeping better since.

Other news? I'm entering a deaccessioning stage. I have a lot of stuff I need to get rid of, some of which may not be be easy to part with, but is nonetheless necessary to part with. It feels good. I just feel like I'm prioritizing, and that's a good thing.

Can I mention one more thing? My boyfriend's 10 month old daughter was playing with his cellphone yesterday and somehow managed to hit the just the right combination of buttons to call me at home while I was at work. No, I was not the last person he had called. It had to be a sequence of at least 4 or 5 buttons before managing to call me. She somehow did this. Then dialed my number again.

I'm sorry. But I'm kind of fucked.