Where I'm Calling From

Having a little trouble getting out of the house this morning though it appears to be a nice day and I have all of these new/old songs on my i-pod so can anticipate a long walk to the same places I always go--Circle Thrift, Rittenhouse Square, the Whole Foods where I expect to be banned at any moment, since I show up to graze the free food at least twice a week (I always buy something, but it's usually inexpensive like an all-natural, non tortured muffin). I could also stay home and clean because my house is a mess. I mean, it's picked up, but it's not clean. So much cat hair blowing around like tumbleweeds plus star-shaped splashes of spilled coffee on the linoleum and various decorative items wearing a layer of dust. If I suddenly inherited a ton of money, I would hire a house cleaner. That would be my dream; someone else who would come in and get this place in ship shape. And also a cook, just a slightly talented chef who could prepare the occasional meal that doesn't feature a 99 cent box of pasta. But I do want to get out of here, if only because Ernesto is driving me crazy with his incessant attempts to bust out of the back screen door. As I type this, he is balanced at the very top of door, meowing pitifully. He knows that the trick to escape involves the door handle, so he sometimes pushes on it. I wonder if I could find a way to channel his energy and somehow rig him up to a vacuum cleaner?

Am invited to a Fishy-town party tonight with Carrie but I always feel slightly uncool at these things because I don't own a pair of tight tapered jeans or wear scarves in my hair and cannot talk about bands I've recently seen at Khyber. I suppose I could park myself by the food table and spend the night drinking room temperature red wine from a plastic cup and shoveling cheese and grapes into my mouth by the handfuls. But Iona will be there and she's adorable and funny. And I invited A., though he has a previous engagement at a yoga graduation party (what? I asked him yesterday if that means the graduate will be demonstrating her levitation techniques and if they will possibly be holding downward dog wheelbarrow races. He claims to not like these hippie-type get togethers and yet he's always going to them. Uh, yeah, well, not like I don't do the same). Also brought work home with me, if you can believe that, but I have about 29 letters to write and each one requires a substantial amount of research--can't just knock them out b/c they're supposed to be personalized, so I need to spend time doing that and I have a deadline for a book review at Philadelphia Stories, and I should finish the round robin story for the people at writing camp, and I need to shave my legs; no wonder I'm stuck today. Of course, I'll feel better once I get going, but part of me would rather stay in and do nothing except maybe read one of these library books I got yesterday from the university. They have a pretty good selection of fiction which makes me inordinately happy.

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