Chili

None of the crap streaming through my mind is anything I want to write about. People around me who are both food and fat obsessed, my own aches, the vivid but only passingly remembered dreams, closet sorting plans. Like boxes for moving, necessary, but dull and filling up all the available space. We will not move this year, or next, but the analogy does come to mind, after so many annual moves.

This is political, but it's also social. Go Here.


Taking Moby to the vet for a check-up this afternoon. He won't like the going, but he never seems to mind actually seeing the vet, nor the trip home, so much. Not expecting any problems. (Ok, he doesn't much care for having his temp taken. "Hey, what are you doing back there? Hey!")

D is taking some of his chili to work for a post Cinco de Mayo potluck. I'll drive him, in part because the only dish we have that will transport it is not sealable. The chili in question turned out hotter than he'd planned, although not hotter than he'd prefer for himself. This could either get him off the hook for further potlucks, or make him the go-to guy for always bringing the chili. Could go either way. I just don't want to have to purchase a container for the purpose. Nowhere to store it here.

Not that I'm complaining about living in a small space. A larger apartment would just gather more clutter. The occasional frustration of "Wherethehell am I going to put this?" is far outweighed by not having to opine "We have way too much stuff."

So, I have not added to my video/audio project this week. Yet. Maybe this evening when I need a break from the closets.

That is all.