Talking Trash

I keep coming back almost daily because this is a form of therapy for me.

It is the only time that I don’t truly think of what is going to happen next, I just type it out. It’s liberating, and I am trying to refrain from using the delete button.

As a way to switch it up and not force you all to read daily about my struggles I think I am going to mix it up and bring back random analogies, short stories and poems and maybe excerpts from the like 4 books I have started. As in writing not reading.

So in an effort to follow through with the statement I just made. Here we go.

I mentioned yesterday that I went to see Fleetwood Mac and got home and barely slept. I was so looking forward to sweatpants and my couch or bed, honestly which ever one was closest would have worked. I skipped out of work, like literally and got home in record time. My puppies were in the window barking and I was pumped to snuggle, but it was not meant to be. Those little shits tipped over a weighted down garage can with a lock, somehow got it opened and proceeded to ripped a full bag of trash opened and throw it all over the house. It was everywhere, bedroom, kitchen, living room. And they knew they were in trouble, I opened the back door and they jetted out. And stayed there until it was cleaned up.

I of course went through the blame game, who didn’t put the trash away? I need to remodel my house to enclose the trash can? I could start crating them again. But it was all for not, by the time I actually sat down to chill I was so worked up that I found no solution.

But I expect to find a garbage filled house again tonight, cause why not?

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