Jan. 16th, 2014

hoveringsombrero: (Default)
A public entry because fuck it it's 4:00 am.

Some years ago I lived in an amazing condo in Spring Valley. It felt like home. I had this thing I did where I stuck every sticker from fruit or veggie onto the handle of the freezer section of the refrigerator. This was silly but it was my thing, it was MY HOME, so that was one of the things I did.

Then the roommate guy let an old friend move in, who did things like try to commit suicide with all my prescription meds.

Said person did a lot of things to appear helpful that really weren't. She would regularly go on sprees in the kitchen in which she appeared to be cleaning, though she'd rarely clean anything but the counter, and then just rearrange a bunch of shit. In one of said sprees she "cleaned" all my stickers off the freezer handle.

It's a little thing, but it was erasing something that was MINE something that meant it was MY HOME. And, honestly, by that point it really wasn't anymore, but it still hurt.

I have recently been given a minifridge by my mother's husband. I haven't been able to get it in a location in which to plug it in though I am assured it worked fine when last used. If it is broken I will just relocate the stickers to some other possession of mine.

But for now:

It is late, I have screwed up my body clock by some overexertion the other day, I am having an apples and cheese snack, I PUT THE STICKERS ON MY FRIDGE. Because it is my fridge, and this is MY HOME.



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