My grandmother is coming up this weekend. I don't know if she's staying here, but I think she is, so it's probably for the best that I cleaned the house, because it means my mother doesn't have to deal with that right now on top of everything else. I'll just have to clean the upstairs.
Before I learned all this, I spent the evening with Mistake, which was cool. We don't have "girl time" all that much and it was nice to just get to hang out and talk and check out her very cute new hairstyle, and get her advice. Usually at school we can't really talk much because either Closer is loitering nearby or we're in a dorm or a public place.
So it's probably good that I happened to need her advice at the same time that we were at home, and at the same time that I needed to drop off a load of trashy romance novels from my mom to hers, because they exchange trashy romance novels and have for years, which always makes me and Mistake torn between laughter and disturbance. One doesn't like to think of one's mother as a reader of supermarket bodice-rippers.
Incidentally, the presence of a big bag of trashy romance novels in my car was the primary drive behind my telling Writer Guy that the car was "dirty" and suggesting that we take his. And yes, the car was dirty. Just more metaphorically so than literally.
|My Hair Should Be Orange|
Expressive, deep, and one of a kind.
I pull off "weird" well - hardly anyone notices.