A monsoon has taken over the northeast.
Soon I'll have to attach floaties to my car in hopes it won't drown, and an umbrella to Bailey's collar, as my poor dog hasn't gone outside in two days. Literally. Two days. She'll walk onto the deck, possibly get as far as the bottom step, and run, not walk, back inside, all the while looking at us with her sappy eyes as if to say, 'Why? I don't understand. Make the wetness go away.'
At this rate she's either peeing in a potted plant or unnoticed corner, or Labradors have incredibly large, expandable bladders.

But assuming my plane can weather [no pun intended] the storm and make it to 10,000 feet, I'll need not worry about the weather pattern in Massachusetts, as tomorrow I'll be on my way to Florida. For six days. Alone.

While it's a small blessing to be able to pack up at my leisure and head to the beach, it's just another tiny reality check that it's not my grandparent's home anymore. It's my grandfather's house. By title only, as he's not even living there. The home I associate it with seems to be slowly dissipating, and my grandmother's presence, while prevalent in my mind, seems to be drifting to just memories. My heart aches for the twenty-two years of life I spent there. I'm not quite ready or willing to let it go.

If we survive the storms, though damp and no doubt moldy, perhaps it will help wash away this winter and encourage the spring along. I could use a little color in my life.

This week has led to two conclusions.

ONE: I do not look good in red plaid.

and TWO: No matter how much I am certain, full to the brim with conviction, it's unlikely that a random encounter with Shia LaBeouf will make him fall to his feet in awe, take my hand in his, and proclaim me as his own.

Just a feeling, I'll say.

I've also come to realize that I am tired of hearing my own voice.

'Bailey, why are you chasing the squirrels? Stop rolling in the dirt. Grass is not food! I TOLD YOU NO, THE RABBITS ARE FRIENDS!'

'Yes, Mom, I will start answering my phone, and returning calls, and listening to not just deleting your voicemails. No really, Mom, it's my PHONE that's the problem, it's just on silent the service out here... Horrendous.'

'It's not that I forgot our plans, per say, I just ... something came up.. uh, you see, my dog, that thing, doctor visit, cough cough, hello, can you hear me, so much static....?'

To rectify, I took a vow of silence.
That lasted until I stubbed my toe on the refrigerator and a resounding 'GODDAMMNIITT' flew out of my mouth before my left hand could clamp over it tightly enough.

I'll mention here how unrewarding and fruitless it is to fight with an inanimate object. Stubbed toe = fridge 1, Renu, 0.


I'm sitting here skirting the big issues life has thrown my way, and focusing instead on the unimportant, minute details of daily life, and I'm okay with that.

For now, it's all I've got.

a conversation of old;;

Guy 1: Dude, those lightsabers were EXPENSIVE.
Guy 2: It's probably because they're the real thing.
Guy 1: You think?
Guy 2: Yeah. Definitely. They wouldn't charge $199 for fake shit.
Guy 1: Whoa. Dude, we need to get those.
Guy 2: Yeah man, like, those could cut through the fuckin' Eiffel Tower, dude.
Guy 1: Or like, a car.
Guy 2: Yeah dude, definitely.