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2016-01-09 - 5:01 p.m.

I was totally going to organize my closet today and then I got side tracked and the next thing you know, I'm painting the walls.

My house is new-ish. I bought it brand new in July of 2013. I live very gently in a house. I don't touch the walls, I don't break things, I don't sling, drop, drizzle, splash, or scatter. My bedroom, my bathroom, and the formal dining room are pristine and perfect with nary a spot to be painted over. The nephew however, is some kind of one man destruction crew. I didn't realize when he took his grubby job that he would rub his grubby hands all over my beautiful walls and surround every doorway and light switch with this filth. If I had known what he was going to do, I would have made him choose between that job and living here. But alas... I didn't foresee this grimy problem. I've told him many times not to touch the walls, but telling him things doesn't make any perceptible difference whatsoever in his actions. The textured surface and matte finish paint will scrub off and be smoother than the surrounding paint, so it is important to not ruin the fucking paint to begin with. Know whut I mean, Vern?

So I removed as much oily filth as possible and spot painted everywhere he has been in the house. My walls look perfect again and I did not have to dig a 6 foot hole in the back yard to hide the body in. I did lecture the nephew within an inch of his life, but I stopped just short of his actual demise. In my lecture I included the message that if he isn't working diligently towards a serious plan for his life by the time his next birthday rolls around, he is moving out. As soon as I was done talking, he wanted to know if his girlfriend could come over. Nice girl, but this ain't a shaggin' wagon, so I want him to find another place to "entertain" her. He's grown. He needs to get his own place. I bet he wonders who peed in my Wheaties today.

Here's a funny thing: I have my sisters son and she has a dog that used to be mine. I traded a dog for a kid. That dog is old. She was my family dog and when my sister and her 2 kids moved in with me once upon a time, they all got so attached to the dog that when I moved to Texas my sister begged me not to take the dog. So I let her stay with them. It wasn't a big change for the dog because she still had the kids and my sister and her home that she was used to. She still lives with them. We have traded pets and children and furniture and doodads. I can go around my sister's house and find all kinds of things that actually belong to me. She gave back a vase at Christmas that I got in Germany and I just realized I forgot to bring it home with me. I really like that little vase.

For some reason, I've got tons of baby hair all over my head and it's about 3.5 to 4 inches long. This is great, cause you can never have too much of a luxurious mane, but it's odd that there is so much of it and it's all the same length. It totally looks like I have bangs. I often wear my hair up, and my hair is pretty curly, so this baby hair stands out all over my head. These hairs aren't long enough to reach my hair tie. Yet.

I needed to go to the bank today. I'm holding a bunch of checks that need to go in. Grrr. I'm such a hermit I don't want to go anywhere. I think there is a branch of my bank in a grocery store that stays open late tonight, but... meh... I really dun wanna.

I had weird dreams again, but I didn't write them down and now I can't remember much. But Ray Liotta was in it. For some unknown reason, I occasionally dream about Ray Liotta. Whhhhyyyyyy?? This has been going on for years and years. It's never a sexual thing, he's not my love interest. He's just featured in some mundane way in my dreams on a recurring basis. I'm an odd bird.

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