My sisters and I picked a date for our trip, and now I have something to look forward to. Lately, I've been kind of tired and downcast, especially since my phone is dying. My therapist tells me I smoke too much weed and maybe she's right. I smoke so I can cook and clean. I smoke so I can tolerate the drivel my daughter insists on watching. I smoke and smoke because I like the way it burns in my throat and lungs.
This is my 100th post. I've had this blog for six years. That's slightly over half a decade. I thought this blog would be more popular, that I'd have written more. I expected too much of myself.
So my life might not be what I expected. What did I expect? What did I want? I never got to go to college. I never became famous. Instead, I'm a disabled, stoned housefrau, smoking dank weed out of a Hello Kitty pipe and scrubbing meat grease out of cast iron. I can make a wicked good roast beef, and strong coffee. I've lived here since February, and I still don't have a dresser, or a decent coffee table. I want a good blender. I want to be a better mother and girlfriend.
No one pays attention to me here, and no one pays attention to me on tumblr anymore, either. A couple of people reblog my shitposts, but no on notices any of my original content anymore.
Everything is going wrong today and I feel kind of down. I feel like a bad parent. It's hot, and I have to clean for inspection, and that's just one more thing I need, another man telling me how to keep my damn house.
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