Three Months In

Inspirational song: The Lucky One (Alison Krauss)

I've opened up a lot lately, and feel somewhat drained for having exposed so many of my secrets so close together. I kind of wish I had a freshly planted garden feature to focus on, or a recent trip to the beach to brag about. I don't even have a recent piece of art to show off. I cut the front grass, and cleaned the kitchen. That's about it. Other than getting chased inside halfway through, thanks to a brief but heavy downpour, it was fairly uneventful. Thanks to the rain, I didn't have to water much of anything except what is covered by the front porch, and while I did that, I looked around for my giant spider. She was nowhere to be found. Not kidding, it was scarier to know she had been there and vanished than to see her in the first place. I was afraid that she was lurking above me, or had found a way inside. I haven't looked in the front room, but if someone starts playing the piano, I'm leaving the house.

Even with the big spider MIA, I am too afraid of diving into that web-clogged little enclave to plant the caladium I bought and set there during the rains last month. So far it is surviving in its nursery pot, but I need to get it in the ground eventually. Maybe closer to Labor Day, the spiders will retreat and I can get my hands back in the dirt for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time. 

I failed twice to get to see a movie tonight. I'm trying to catch one that is barely holding in at one theater, and is gone at all the others. I missed getting to go by myself to a late afternoon showing because I got a call from the man, and honestly, I wasn't going to hang up on him for a movie! Then I was going to drag one of my neighbors to a later show, but she ended up not being able to get free. It is out of the question to go to this theater alone after dark. It is in an odd location, between a gated tech company and a local government building. At night it is absolutely eerie. We have come out shows before, wondering whether the apocalypse came while we were inside. The lobby was dark and deserted, there were no other humans anywhere, in the halls, bathrooms, or at the concession counter. The parking lot is always nearly empty, with maybe a few people just hanging out by their cars, talking but not driving away. Nine o'clock at night feels like four in the morning out there. So, yeah. No movie. I just hung out at home on a Friday night, watching my scruffy kitten get a new high score on her iPad game. (620, baby. Not bad, for a two month old.)