Here’s to Pooping Outside

All is quiet in my cozy one-bedroom, all except the soft moan of my ceiling fan and Chubbs crunching on his chicken flavored puppy bone, his claws scratching the plastic tray of his kennel as he shuffles to find a comfy spot. I’m beginning to enjoy this whole living alone thing. It’s only 12:20 in the morning and I’m already curled up in my purple jersey knit sheets, An Object of Beauty resting beside me, waiting to be read.

I worked all morning and then spent the evening cleaning, sewing, and decorating my apartment. It’s beginning to feel more like home. I have a couch, a desk, an entertainment piece, posters, a few paintings, and random odds and ends. My place stays spotless, my sink empty, my rooms uncluttered and smelling clean. I can walk around pantsless and do ab curls while I watch Gossip Girl on Netflix and not have to worry about my roommates walking in on me. Yeah, I really enjoy living alone.

But I will admit, it does get lonely at times. There are moments where I wish I had someone to rent a Redbox movie with, perhaps head downtown for a drink. The usual social things, but those days will come again.

Work was rather uneventful. I wasted 100.7 miles searching for a feature that never came. I listened to my police scanner as I drove around the city. Wreck after wreck after wreck, each one resulting in a mere fender bender. Nothing worthy or reporting. The sunset was beautiful here. After a day of rain, the sky melted into a beautiful lavender and rose before fading to navy. I searched for a spot that captured that moment, riding along the mountains, but never found it. I still have to figure this place out. So, after 9 hours of work, I had nothing to show for it. Perhaps tomorrow will be better.

On a happier note, Chubbs is almost potty trained. He no longer poops or pees inside, except for when I vacuum and he leaves tinkle trails across the living room carpet. He tells me when it’s time to go outside and I now feel comfortable leaving him roaming about my room as I sleep each night. It’s the least I can do since he stays locked up all day while I’m at work.

Tomorrow night, I’m attempting a new recipe. Tilapia (yes, cheap fish is all I can afford) with a spicy pineapple glaze and a side of fresh veggies. I would say rice, but apparently I need to cut back due to high levels of arsenic. Is it sad that I prepare dinner a day in advance?

Fat girl problems.

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