I got to petsit Molly in my new place for the first time.
She’s gone but the fur remains.
(Isn’t she just so. freaking. cute?)
And, in case you’re wondering, she’s laying on a comforter one of my friends had dragged to my sofa one night.
I’ve spent my life finding the temperature my mom keeps her house (68-70 degrees) freezing cold, so it’s been quite a twist that since moving my body has readjusted to some strange extent.
The temperature I keep my thermostat at?
(In my defense, when people are over and complaining, I’ve been known to raise it to 64.)
(I’m a giver.)
Allison claims the name Shane no longer has meaning to her, like how if you repeat armadillo 500 times you can no longer think of it as a real word.
This is because of my oh-so-recent-yet-all-encompassing obsession with The Walking Dead.
I read the first two chapters of the book for a graphic novel book club I’m trying to stealthily join, then over the following weekend finished the first compendium.
Allison, a long-time fan of the television show, suggested I watch that, probably because she had no idea how often I would gchat her in-depth discussions of Dale’s poor judgment.
(Yes, I’ve obsessively discussed this show so much I know the character’s names.)
(It’s like a life milestone.)
I’ve now finished the first two seasons on Netflix, and as soon as I bully Lindsey into finishing them too we’re going to catch up on this season thanks to her brother and an Xbox subscription.
(This has rather been a sad turn for Skye, who has no interest in the book or TV show but has to spend every single group interaction listening to us bash Lori.)
(Who’s totally evil, right?)
My yellow entryway isn’t really an appropriate entry in a list of joyful things.
Soul-crushing things, tear-jerking things, wall monstrosities – any of those lists would be more appropriate.
But I do have three friends who came over for a normal Tuesday night dinner and Walking Dead discussion who, after I kindly suggested we add yet two more coats to my walls, eagerly grabbed brushes and rollers.
And that is because I am quite lucky.
When it comes to friends, that is.
My wall luck is very poor.
Though we did have homemade pizza, so, really, they needed to use all that energy up painting something.
I probably save my neighborhood from quite the graffiti spree.
(You’re welcome, neighbor with white van.)
Now that I’ve finished Walking Dead
I’ve started watching Battlestar Galactica
Because I’m addicted to addictions,
MeganIf There Were More Undead, The World Would Be A Happier Place