On thinking and building

Awake. Mad stressed about life and taxes and money and having a physical body. Application due date for grad school is January first, so I have until then to get all that shit together. As of now I’m 95% sure that it’s what I wanna do. I’m sick of financial instability and I need an actual plan for the future. Freelance shit isn’t guna get me into a house. Plus it just sounds good to me. Good for me.
This evening I went over to my parents’ house by myself and hung out with them and it was pretty fun and chill and awesome. My mom and I put a weird cabinet together. It was like an off-brand Ikea POS she got at a garage sale and the directions were fucking terrible. Just basically incomprehensible. We noticed that everywhere in the directions where the word “bolt” appeared, it seemed to be printed on a tiny sticker stuck to the page. When we peeled them off we discovered the word “Blot” was under each one. A  hilarious gift from the god of typos. So we went through the entire construction calling the bolts blots. My little brother is really good at putting things together, and he always curses a lot while he does it, claiming the constant stream of profanities makes the work go smoother. I joked with my mom that I was guna channel him to get the job done, and proceeded to curse profusely at every piece of fucking shit part that didn’t seem to fit quite right in its goddamn place. My mom even joined in occasionally. After like an hour we finally got it done. We sent a pic to my brother to tell him how he inspired our eventual triumph. Take that you son of a birch garage sale cabinet.

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