Tomorrow is my birthday. Was hoping to go out tonight with friends, but have yet to hear back from any of them. Aw, shucks. That's okay. I'm sure the gathering tomorrow will more than make up for it.
As for right now, I am sitting in my apartment mulling over all the tasks I need to complete prior to people coming over tomorrow (dishes, vacuuming, food, blah blah blah). Why is it that I only clean when I have people coming over? Or rather, I only do in-depth cleaning then. It is literally (and god I hate using that word, but it's apropos here) the only time I care about scrubbing down my light switch panels and floorboards.
I love that I assume people would be looking at these things. As though my close and personal friends would suddenly not become as such because I have a dirt smudge on the floor. Who knew that dirt accumulated where we walk? Huh...strange.
On the up side, I was able to reorganize all the writing that I rediscovered. All these poems from college. Funny how the inspirations seem forever lost, but I can still go back and cut, thrift away words from them. It almost feels like stealing from my twenty-year-old self. Perhaps it is. She probably wouldn't've taken my criticism very well.
Well, the sponges and vacuum have taken to name-calling so I must attend to that.
Peace, love, and birthday balloons,
Almost-27
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