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Yesterday was an anniversary of sorts for S. and I. We spent it eating bad tacos (cooked by me) and discussing the relative weepiness of his nasty sumac rash as compared to the day before. Plans for a more exciting celebration are in the works.
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It's bulk trash pick-up week in our neighborhood, which for S. and me means it's "drive around in the truck and acquire more crap we really don't need" week. We've been pretty circumspect so far, I think because we just emptied our back building and carport of a lot of junk and we want to enjoy the sparse look for a while.
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My mom is now waging full-fledged, years-too-late war on my dad over all the shit he pulled when they were married. I don't blame her (in fact, I'm kind of proud of her), but wish she wouldn't use S. and my wedding as the staging grounds. So far all I've had to do is listen to a lot of bitching and as long as I can keep it to that, it could be an amusing show.
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Going to Dallas this weekend to drink and eat and drink and lounge around a pool and eat and drink some more with my friend J. It will be the first time we've been able to hang out alone in a long time and I'm looking forward to it. I need more Austin friends.
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Yes, I just said I need more friends. Me. I said that. What. the. fuck.
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I'm also harboring a growing desire to purchase a pickup truck.
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What the hell is happening to me?
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