(no subject)
Jan. 10th, 2001 03:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
verbminx"if the point of ironing is to be well-groomed, and having weird discolored shiny spots on your clothing is the result of ironing, what's the point?" I think I need a new iron. The one here spits stuff and is maddeningly imprecise.
I have been washing laundry and getting ready to go dry it, but strangely enough, I am now exhausted with the effort. So I have been ironing pants, since I cannot seem to sit still. Not even for a few minutes. Not even because I'm tired. Today my body won't quit until it falls over.
I'm contemplating not drying my laundry until my break between classes tomorrow, but honestly I think that I am going to have a fight with my mother if I don't get out of here. Every little thing she's doing has been aggravating me because I am ultra-aware of a typical parental hypocrisy and lack of respect on her part. I can't live with her, I have to live around her - like you walk around a block. She constantly moves my stuff without telling me, and that is the tip of the iceberg. I just keep my tongue bitten, presuming that relative physical comfort has to be better than a park bench.
I think of the man who used to sit with his giant backpack in the café of a local bookstore, drinking coffee, maybe in his 40s, with a shaved head. His body odor was epic but he was always completely groomed, and I could never figure out whether he was homeless or just... strange. I don't want to be a pretty girl wearing impeccable makeup sitting in a coffee shop for hours every day smelling like I haven't bathed in two weeks.
Iron clothes, close mouth, pick up as you go.
I have been washing laundry and getting ready to go dry it, but strangely enough, I am now exhausted with the effort. So I have been ironing pants, since I cannot seem to sit still. Not even for a few minutes. Not even because I'm tired. Today my body won't quit until it falls over.
I'm contemplating not drying my laundry until my break between classes tomorrow, but honestly I think that I am going to have a fight with my mother if I don't get out of here. Every little thing she's doing has been aggravating me because I am ultra-aware of a typical parental hypocrisy and lack of respect on her part. I can't live with her, I have to live around her - like you walk around a block. She constantly moves my stuff without telling me, and that is the tip of the iceberg. I just keep my tongue bitten, presuming that relative physical comfort has to be better than a park bench.
I think of the man who used to sit with his giant backpack in the café of a local bookstore, drinking coffee, maybe in his 40s, with a shaved head. His body odor was epic but he was always completely groomed, and I could never figure out whether he was homeless or just... strange. I don't want to be a pretty girl wearing impeccable makeup sitting in a coffee shop for hours every day smelling like I haven't bathed in two weeks.
Iron clothes, close mouth, pick up as you go.
