5 months ago I figured I'd be in a small studio apartment infested with fleas living with a sharp-nailed alabaster cat named Myrtle after an old lady, or old beach in Florida with nothing left but mismatched plates and stained dish towels that didn't match with fleas and their feces on the rugs, on the quilt, on the green chair with that one dark stain and the blonde cat hair that I sit on anyway and eat my dinners of yellow rice, baked chicken, and a few pickles just for kicks and I watch TV on a TV that sits on a wine rack, and not a TV stand, though it should be on a TV stand for it is too big for the wine rack that doesn't hold any wine just DVDs like Men in Tights and All Dogs Go to Heaven, and The Big White, which I have yet to watch but need to since I'm only borrowing it from my Canadian coworker that sits in the cubicle next to me and says funny things to herself like "holy buckets" and "cracker barrels" when she gets upset and I laugh and then I begin to talk to myself to fill in the gaps of silence but someone complained and now we can't talk as loud anymore so I just go back to working quietly nowadays and come back to the studio apartment as I imagined it 5 months ago before I moved in but to my fortune -- the cat, the chair, the rugs, the blankets, sheets and dish towels are vacant of any fleas or flea feces so I sort of just wander around the place double checking for fleas and mold and kitty litter crumbs that Myrtle (beach) drags around the laminate wood floor and think about how I just want to write and how I've been a bit too lazy to read since I generally just hope to fall asleep in a decently short amount of time but nonetheless I pick a book up to read a page and become tired and sleep and wake up for work, and work silently in my cubicle and laugh at the Canadian and come home and yell at the shedding cat and clean up her kitty litter crumbs while a rice and/or pasta dish cooks with half-frozen chicken that I don't even like and think about watching a movie, or reading a book, or writing in this blog or in my journal or in my phone's notes, or think about a few months ago and all the dreams that get dreamed in that amount of time and how I can remember all of them, and forget them all at the same time.
