Maybe less plants, but definitely not a storage area for half finished home improvement projects.

The thing I like about this puzzle is that it makes me think about what I want my house to look like. I doubt I could keep that many plants alive, and I can do without the doll, but doesn't it look like a great place to drink some iced tea and read a book? And of course, work on a puzzle with lots of kitty interruptions.

I went out last night with my friend Lena, her husband, and his friend. We went to the batting cages, and would you believe I hit probably half of the softball pitches? Something stuck, or maybe tennis is helping. So the guys wanted to try the 65 mph baseball pitches, and each tried a round or two, then urged me in. I hit none of those, but they said I got very close. I swung at some baseball pitches!

I also got very drunk at our next stop, which was a bar with pool tables. We played cutthroat and I won one game, but the beer and fun conversation took over and Lena's husband creamed us for the next three games. I had a fantastic time and Lena drove all us drunkies home. That last beer was a 10% called Dirty Wookie. It knocked me on my ass, but I still got up this morning and met my friend for yoga at 9, picked up my car, practiced tennis for an hour and a half, returned to the bar to retrieve my bank card (No, future self, you do not want to start a tab.), and finished the lovely puzzle below. Now it's forced editing time, and setting up the laptop in my room so I can watch Trainwreck tomorrow morning instead of accomplishing anything. I think the hangover is just catching up with me now.

I think I included a picture the other day of mustache bookmarks and Ant's note to me. Those moments make me happy, and remind me of who he is under the always occupying, aggravating teenager layer.

Not enough hours in the day. And tomorrow's evening will be occupied, which will be fun, but I will also mourn my quiet time. I feel like I don't have much of that anymore, and I keep thinking I'll schedule nothing for a weekend just so I can lie on the couch and watch some movies, but I never do. This is better, though. I had a lot of fun last night. :)

Break open in case of police report

Some mornings, you drop the kleenex box in the dog's water bowl, and you get a good sense of what's coming.

You're late and you don't accomplish much, and just looking at your desk makes you wonder if it's too late to call in sick.

Your hair is stringy and staticky and the combination of your too-short pants and your Hugh Hefner loafers and socks that only match your imagination make you look and feel like a grandpa.

It's not the worst day, just a mulligan. You come home looking forward to an hour of peace before meeting a friend and innocently decide to check the mail.

Suddenly feel the presence of a mentally unhinged person walking behind you. You do not turn around, but keep them in your peripheral view. You hear a mumbled word. Another. You toss out the trash you've been carrying and recognize the mumbler. It's the woman that hates you, and her face is twisted in the familiar way it looks when she sees you. In three years, you have yet to determine why. You decide- as usual- to give her a wide berth, since friendliness failed years ago, and confrontation is not your forte.

"Bitch," she snarls. "Bitch."

You bypass the mail and head home, trying to concede space to the spitty old neighborhood cat.

"BITCH. BITCH." she sputters.

You note the lisp in her voice and wonder if she's deaf.

"BITCH!"

Then you stop and turn, and simply stand your ground. Not challenging forward, not retreating back. You can hear her walking back from the mailboxes behind the cars. You wait.

"BITCH! FUCKING BITCH!"

She sees you looking at her, and quickly looks down.

"Bitch," she mutters again, and continues her angry march home. You stay put, watching until she's out of sight.

The messed up eye is already asleep

I feel so discombobulated. I've been taking too many road trips and juggling and the laundry piled up thanks to the missing quarter problem and I feel like I need a boring weekend so I can do some chores and take a damn nap.

Tonight I played an hour of tennis and reheated lasagna for dinner. Afterwards, Ant offered a deal: "Will you do the dishes if I unload the dishwasher?" Deal. He showed me that he had already washed the lasagna pan as requested, and added "...but I need to wash that again because I disagree with the job I did..."

Today, Chris met up with me to get the one form we're missing for our guardianship agreement. We talked a lot about Ant and his plans. That was good, and hopefully I already told you about the woman at the free legal clinic and how awesome she is and how I'm sure she's got better things to do than write documents for former stepmothers, even ones who were veterans.

Just before I pass out and drop the phone, I want to tell you this piece that cracked me up. I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts, Risk, and this episode was a live show. Kevin, the host, was doing one his fantastic transitions between stories and said sometimes people take pictures during the show and tweet them. He said sometimes he sees them while he's backstage during a story and thinks, "What the fuck am I wearing?"

I ask myself that question often, and I love that his revelation doesn't come years or weeks later- it's immediate. Then he said the New York Post wrote this about him: Kevin Allison got the queer, just not the eye.

Speaking of eyes, mine is all fucked up again. I am starting to wonder if it's stress induced. Jennyway.