I have today off, one of the few holidays I can count on my boss closing the office.  I had every intention of not leaving the house today, but I heard the beep of a delivery and then something hit my front door screen.  USPS delivers for Amazon, even on federal holidays, and even the day before the book is officially released..  It was the Neil Gaiman book I'd preordered several months back. LIke any fangirl I took a picture and posted it to twitter with the title hashtagged and tagging the author --- who retweeted me with a response!   Which is really cool, but kind of scary.  At least I could put some thought into my tweet, unlike when I met him in November, when I was too starstruck to say anything. But he was super nice. Though in the pictures I look terrified (which I was), to my everlasting shame.  

Day  25:

Since I have the day off, I'm taking most of today off from the decluttering in favor of binge-watching stuff I have on the TiVo. (It's been perpetually at 98-99% full since we got the good cable installed).  Only one item today: a black (now faded to brown) knit night-dress. It's been washed so many times it's grown super sheer. It was never anything I 'd wear out of the house, but comfortable to wear inside, especially when it was hot out (i.e. frequently, because I live in sunny California).  It's even got a few holes.  It's been kicking around the bedroom for the last couple of days and it's been nagging at me every damned time I came across it.  It's like I have to stop not seeing how bad something is before I can let it go, and that takes tremendous effort.  All the energy I spend putting up a front that I'm ok seems to bleed over into making me think things around me are ok too.  Here's to mental illness, it blinds both ways.  


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Cyrano de Univac

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