A controlled blue gas flame is a beautiful thing when it is simply observed, and not thought about contextually. The rolling boil, the effect of wet warmth in the throat, the comforting ancient domesticity.

The opposite of this is when it costs almost half a grand to fill a propane tank. Also, the damn darking bog. Also, the busybody landlady sending word about the fucking weeds. Which are pretty little things and feed the bunnies.

So here’s the thing y’ol’ biddeh kitteh. It may be hard to understand that the fool who is paying off your mortgage for you has both a job and a life, since you apparently have neither. However. Graduation is a bit over a week away. At that point the job part of it, the rent-paying part of it, drops away for a while. So while I was deeply looking forward to having only a life for little bit, there will probably be a little reluctant time left over for your shit, your fuss, your məšugga‘ath. Aight?

The real question is whether it’s more pain to put up with this for another year, or more pain to spend another summer moving.

The other real question is why even a brush with this kind of crap can put me off my feed and disturb my sleep.

It’s my least favorite part of my neurosis.