Posts Tagged ‘Fuck Yeah’

So Grant left today. He found a space in a halfway house, and I haven’t been so grateful for something in a long while. The anxiety around his impending homelessness was killing me. It seems weird that he isn’t here.

I am still freaking out about money but the rest of my impending move planning is going ok. The guy I thought I had sold two bookcases to had to bail, health problems, complicated story, so now I need to find another buyer for those.

I blew through a shitload of money today, no way to avoid it, but it certainly is not easing my anxiety at all. I hate money. I would barter all damn day if I had any skill or talent that was at all salable. Alas, no one is willing to pay me to sit around drinking beverages and being pithy.

A shame, that. What a lovely way to pay for gas.

You never know which chance meeting will be the one in which you meet your friends. I went to a blogger meet up and that’s where I met Sizzle for the first time.

Now there are very few people who are as different from me as Sizz. She is persistent and organized, a perpetual motion machine in a stylish covering, a dazzling entertainment and party organizer. She and Hotness are entirely responsible for the fact that I have a celebratory birthday supper each year.

Sizzle just overwhelms me with love and acceptance. I have spent many a Christmas Eve with her and her family, I have eaten her baked goods (not a euphemism) and have accepted the fact that I am now known far and wide as Kap as a direct result of her calling me that.

She is a woman of intelligence and style, of striving and effort. She is funny and sweet and I have always considered myself blessed that she chose to be my friend.

She is a lot like my family, the closest thing I have to a sister, and this year I got to celebrate her wedding to her own personal Mr Darcy.

So today is the birthday of this amazing woman, and I would like to take this opportunity to wish her a many happy returns of the day, in Eeyore fashion, and tell her that my 40′s were head and shoulders above my 30′s and probably my 20′s, if I remembered more of them. I love you, Jonesy.

I am packing up the remains of my life and posting them to my parents. I am fairly sure this will be less expensive than renting a truck. I would totally fly but Kato is an elderly cat, and a terrible traveler and so he is considered a very poor risk for sedation or flight. I can’t help but think that him howling for three hours at the top of his lungs will not be found acceptable by the other travelers.
So a car it is, and Bev Kaply and my dad have gotten cuter and cuter as they try to help me by researching doctors and going to the housing authority to see if they need to sign me up for services. It’s nice that they are so excited that I will be moving so close. We haven’t lived within 30 mins of each other in about 20 years, and I am as excited as they are, although probably less demonstrative about it, on account of MOVING MY WHOLE LIFE and stuff.
I am also concerned about leaving Grant homeless. I can only tell myself it’s bound to work out. I’d sacrifice a chicken, but Grant is allergic.
I ordered cat food and cleaning stuff from Amazon that has apparently disappeared into the ether along with my money. If it doesn’t show up soon, I am gonna have a fucking fit. For serious.
Anyway, I have to do dialysis, because apparently I will die without it, blah blah blah.

Today is my best friend’s birthday, and you all know him as the Unbearable Hotness Of Robert, or Hotness, for short.
We met when we both moved to Seattle, and I liked him immediately. He is sartorially resplendent at all times, with his bow ties and such, he has forgotten more about music than I ever knew, and is invariably able to maintain his calm in the face of, well, me.
He is funny, sharp and smart. Very, very smart. Fathead has crowned him The Driest Motherfucker In Seattle, and Hotness definitely earns it.
Hotness is the one who keeps this blog running, keeps me from throwing recalcitrant electronics out the window, and prevents me from wearing orange.
In short, I love him dearly, am grateful I met him and know that I am all the better for having him in my life.
Many happy returns of the day, Hotness.

I finally sold the goddamned juicer to a very nice young man who I am betting will actually open its box, which certainly was not going to happen at the Casa del Kaply PNW.
I still don’t know what the hell I was thinking. It’s like I never met me.
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I am sick. Phlegmy, coughing and hacking sick. I may be entirely made of mucus, and yesterday had the Nosebleed That Killed Elvis.
I have a z pack waiting for me at the pharmacy for when I go to dialysis tomorrow. The wet hacking cough makes me feel like a petite fleur.
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I would write some more, about how great it is to have Grant making me soup or how I got the nose blood out of my sheets, but I need a shower and this is boring me.