Merger

Today's the day I give up part of myself. Today is the official day of "No Turning Back." Today is the day I solidify a rather unsatisfying relationship.

The Boy is moving all of the rest of his belongings into my home today and he has tenants moving in to his tomorrow.

I love The Boy. We all know that. We also have a well-established cyber-blog-trail of everything that's wrong with "us," so there's no need for me to get into all of that. But I'm still not entirely sure I'm ready for this.

Something had to happen, though, because we live about 45 miles apart. He bought a house in a new neighborhood way the hell out, further than anyone wants to drive. Because the land was cheap and the houses were too, the neighborhood filled up with rather undesirable people. As a result, I had no desire to be up there, and it's a pain to pack up the dogs, the gas I was wasting was ridiculous, and I still had to come home every day because of the fish.

And, besides...my house is bigger and only 10 minutes away from his job.

When you boil down The Boy's life into belongings, there really aren't that many. I find that to be a little sad. Not that he's not a packrat, but just that he doesn't have that many tangible items that mean a lot to him.

My ex-husband was the same way, but even moreso. When The Jackass moved in with me, he brought clothes, and one box of 'stuff.' The box had random papers just tossed in, some pictures, a folder with his birth certificate and some other personal things in it, and a fabric banner of the famous dogs playing pool picture. Everything else he had was literally junk. The TV stand was held together with duct tape. His TV was a tiny 13" with a built-in VCR that didn't work. His futon mattress sans futon was old and had a huge patch of mildew on one corner. The loveseat was ripped on one end and was sort of hijacked by his then-roommates.

Very few possessions, to me, sets off an alarm of instability, vagrancy, and irresponsibility. Especially when that person says they used to have those things - like actual bed pillows - but "something happened" and now they don't.

So when The Boy started moving down here, I paid very close attention to all the things he had in boxes. Most consisted of his military career: papers upon papers upon papers, pins, clips, ties, uniform pieces, ALICE packs, and so forth. And a lot of it was just random crap that you could tell had been packed up at another location, moved, stored, and never gone through again until just now.

The difference here is that I see items from all stages of The Boy's life, not just the last 3 years. He may not have collected a lot of junk, but that's okay too. I mean, he moved all the way across the country right after getting out of the military and has been single and working his ass off ever since; not a whole lot of time to accumulate a mess.

And he does have some nice things, too. I have a gun safe in one of my closets already and today we're moving his down here, into another closet. He has a safe full of guns. He also has 3 Snap-On tool boxes full of tools. That means he doesn't sell things off or pawn them, like The Jackass did. It also shows responsibility, because he has many high-quality guns, and he keeps them locked up, instead of hidden somewhere in the house where any criminal could find them (i don't keep kids around the house. they're detestable!). The Jackass had one cheap-ass Kel-Tec pistol and he kept it "hidden" in his bedside table drawer - real original, huh? I told him not to buy that stupid thing, but he didn't listen to me. That was the time we were living in the condo and I couldn't put a safe in there without risking it falling through the floor into my neighbor's house, so I kept my guns in my dad's safe at his house.

Funny how I swore I'd never compare them, and yet I am.

I just look at these few boxes of possessions, most of which are getting thrown away or shredded, and it makes me a little sad. I have pictures literally all over my house. Every wall has photos or paintings on them. The paintings were done by either me or my great-grandmother. All the photos are of my friends and family. I have a ton of pieces of antique furniture that were passed down through the generations - some of which were built by my cabinetmaker ancestor! I have items that I worked hard to save up for, some that I worked hard to find, and some that mean absolutely nothing to anybody but me. But my whole home is filled with my life, and my family's life. When you walk in my house, you can see it's lived in and that it's got history.

Really weird, for a single, childless woman. But that's how it is.

I work pretty hard at keeping things clutter-free and I've grown new balls when it comes to throwing things out. I still have a lot of stuff, though. A LOT of stuff. (The Boy thinks he's going to put some stuff in the closets upstairs. Heh. He has NO IDEA that they're full! LOL!)

I have no children to inherit my stuff when I die. I have no children to rifle through and argue over my stuff when I die. I'm maintaining the heritage of my family because I enjoy the pieces, the furniture, the legacy. But no one else will care. Besides someone (i wonder who) selling all my antiques and paintings to random people in an estate sale, what will the world have to prove that I was alive?

I mean, at least I have stuff, and I'm a teacher, so I'm making at least some kind of minimal impact on the world. The Jackass only has a son he pretends to care about when it suits him and that kid should celebrate when Jackass finally dies: he'll get a very small life insurance payout - not even enough to pay for the therapy he'll need to undo all the damage Jackass has done to him. The Boy - what does he have? If, God forbid, he were gone tomorrow, what legacy has he left the world?

An even better question: Does any of it even matter?

Doubtful. And, truly, I'm okay with that. My job is to live my life while I'm here. To help when I can, to learn lessons, to have fun and LIVE. Whatever happens after I die...well...that's nothing I need to be concerned about, now is it?

Rats! I Can't Find Any Rats!

This is probably the most asinine post I've ever written, but I'm just so damned pissed off, I'm not sure what else to do.

Here's the conundrum:

I am going to a concert tomorrow night. It's a swing/rockabilly-ish kind of show. I want to do my hair in victory rolls. I used to do it all the time - you know, dress for the occasion sort of thing - but here's the rub: my ass, waist, and stomach have expanded beyond the limits of any of my old clothing (i've ballooned out to, like, a size 7 now) and my hair has gotten considerably longer than it was.

I don't actually believe that a size 7 makes me ranking among hippos, but it IS a problem when all of your clothes are in the size range from a 2 to 4. Hell, I still have a pair of jeans that are a 00. It's hard to believe I was ever able to fit in them. Stupid childbearing years of spreading hips! Grr!

So rather than just rolling my hair up the way I used to, by hand, now I actually need something to take up some extra space and for my hair to hold on to. The answer, of course, is to use a rat. The question, of course, would be 'What the hell did I do with all the rats I used to have?' Well, Lord only knows, because I managed to clean out my cache of 80's hair accessories probably, oh, 3 years ago when I moved the last time. And, of course, now I need them.

I live in a huge metropolitan city. There are no less than 15 beauty supply shops within a 5 or 6 mile radius of my home. So can anybody give me a reasonable reason for why I can't find any hair sponges??

Oh, let me qualify that: So can anybody give me a reasonable reason for why I can't find any LIGHT COLORED hair sponges? Oh, I find black ones all over the place. I'm really, truly, not trying to make this into a racial issue but, based on current supplies, it would seem to me that hair sponges (rats) have fallen out of favor with people who don't have black hair. And 99% of the ones I found are those ugly little donut shaped ones meant to make buns that look very much like arseholes.

What do you mean the 1940s are over?! I can't get rats anymore in person?!

You know what this means, right? I'm going to have to make my own. How? you may ask. It's quite simple. Well, it would be quite simple, if I hadn't just thrown out that big ball of hair I got when I cleaned out my brush two days ago. But, basically, I collect my own hair and shove it into a bit of pantyhose and sew it up. I have seen people use hair extensions or those fake ponytails and hairnets, but what fun is that? I mean, nothing says "give me fashion or give me death" like collecting molted hair, right?!

That does sound kind of disgusting. But, I wash my hair, so all the hair that gets collected in the brush is technically clean.

I'm not weird. Other people do this too. Look online, for Christ's sake.

So, tomorrow, while The Boy is off at work, I'm going to have to get help strapping myself into my longline bra and get my happy ass down to a couple of my favorite vintage stores to see if I can find a new dress to fit my fat ass. (heh. the first time i typed that, i typed 'fast' instead of 'fat.' either way, i guess, is accurate!) Good luck finding something big enough for my new body shape.

And then, I'm off to find the shoes! I hate to say it, but Jessica Simpson had her signature on some I saw at Macy's that are the quintessential pin-up shoes. That was quite some time ago, though. No time to order over the Internet, either (it's not like i didn't know about this show like, oh, over 2 months ago or anything), so I'm going to have to find them tomorrow. Drats.

But, oh! I just looked at Dillard's online and they have the *very* shoes I was coveting, and for cheaper than Zappos! Score! Now I just need to find a store that actually has them in my size.

And all of this, why? I haven't worn a dress - like, more than just in front of a mirror - since my best friend got married in July of 2006. I haven't worn heels for more than just a "welcome home fuck me" kinda thing since...well...it was July of 2006, too, because I was a bridesmaid, I had just sprained my ankle right before the wedding and was afraid I was going to become Wedding Aisle Roadkill. But it all turned out okay.

Point being that I haven't actually dressed like that in a few weeks short of 3 years, but I'm going to attempt to do it now for about a 3 hour stretch. Not the smartest move Stillie's ever made, but we'll see how it pans out, shall we?

Wish me luck making a smooth transition into the pin-up world...

Vortex of Dryer Weirdness

My dryer is famous for creating the largest fuzzballs you've ever seen. I mean, it's a legend that's spread across the neighborhood.

It all started from when one of my new neighbors stopped by to welcome me to the street. I had been working - painting and home improvement type activities - and was wearing nothing but a sports bra, so I quickly threw on something from the dryer before opening the door. There was one of these giant-sized fuzzballs, mostly made up of doghair and Stillie hair, stuck to the my left shoulderblade. And so the legend has continued, because the fuzzballs continue.

I have hair rollers in every room of the house, on the entry hall table, in my truck, in my desk drawer at work, and yet I still manage to parade around town with an auxilary sweater of dog hair.

Pet owners can instinctively pick one another out of a crowd, probably from the dog hair. I went to a psychic once with my cousin and the first thing out of his mouth was, "You're an animal lover." No shit, Nostradamus...what gave it away? The huge swath of dog hair across my backside?! I bet you're going to tell me I'm smart next, won't you?

There's another part of my dryer that's a bit weird, besides just the large deposits of tresses. While most people's dryers steal socks, never to be found again, my dryer is hoarding fuzzballs and stockpiling them for some War of the Washers or something.

Seriously. Look at this:

You're looking at one of those hollow plastic agitator things inside the dryer. Those black things are fuzzballs. Don't ask me how they got there - that fin agitator thing is attached to the tumbler walls all the way around. I have NO idea how they create themselves.

What I do know, though, is that a few months ago, there were only 3 of them.

Now, there are four of them. They're multiplying!

I can't help but wonder...what happens when it gets full? Will I have to pop the fin thing off and remove them? Will they overheat and cause a fire? Will it make the dryer off-balance and eventually ruin the rotating thingy?

And...where the FUCK do they come from?

Secretly, they creep me out. Nobody else has ever noticed them. Or, maybe it's just because I'm the only one around here that ever does a load of laundry...