What do you do when you find exactly the person you want to spend your life doing laundry for and playing toesy with when that person is afraid to care to much about you?

I'm curious here.  It's occurred to me that I could get myself a more manageable life that's less intimidating and more  accessible to friends and potential mates.  So here's my survey question:

Should I sell my big 'ole house and move to Brooklyn or Queens or someplace closer in but more middle class?

I'm curious to hear your POVs on the topic.

So I have spent a useful several days.  I spent some hours today at school, copying articles and reading books for the paper on the Aesthetic influences on American suburban homes of the nineteenth-century.  I scanned images for the presentation on said topic Tuesday morning.  I tidied my house so I now know what articles I have for this and my ( Read more... )

You Are High Heeled Boots
( Read more... )

Still writing.  Did I mention that I was tired of writing?  When do I get to be done with writing...?

Hah.  syringavulgaris said I had to post this.  And since I'm having a hard time getting into my writing groove, I shall.

I feed strays in my basement.  They can get in through a window so they have a dry place to sleep.  Fair enough.  The food dish is near my washer and dryer.  I did a ton of laundry Saturday.  As I walked by the dish, I noticed that the gray ( Read more... )

Heh.

Describe me in one word - just one single word. Negative or positive.
Leave your word in a comment before looking at the words others have used.
Copy and paste the meme to your journal to find out how people describe you when limited to one word.
Stolen from Jousterbard via Danabren via PelicanGirl

Erg.  I got yet another stay of execution on this particular project last week, so now it's really time to perform.  Trouble is, my brain still isn't back.  It's still pissed from the abuse of last November and December, and refuses to settle down and focus.   I have two midterm presentations due in the next two days, plus this long-overdue paper ( Read more... )

So Valentine's Day is one of those things that the Single-Person-Who-Would-Prefer-To-Be-Attached could be said to dread.  I think I not only survived this one, but might even have created some new standards of "Doing it Better On My Own, Dammit!"

I had a moment of being rather disgusted, no, Angry at how callously, lamely, casually, and pettily that ( Read more... )

So today I laid in bed til noon reading "The Difference Engine".  Plausible enough version of 1855, I suppose.  But there's something so coldly technical in William Gibson's writing style that I can never quite get engrossed.  The same story written, by, say, Connie Willis, would *feel* more chaotic (lots of what I read today were about the riots ( Read more... )