In Heaven Everything Is Fine

The bookshelf that Joe and I put together to hold records collapsed with a mighty ruckus, more than likely because we were actually using it to hold records, which if any of you old skool DJs may recall are astonishingly heavy when grouped together in clusters made of, oh, 6 or more. Fools, we are. And who knows how much vinyl was smashed in the process. I'm sitting on the guest room bed just sadly staring down at all the scattered remains of the blowout, LPs thrown asunder, and I'm bloody terrified to look into each and every one of them to see if any are broken. I bravely peeped into my copy of Terminal Tower by Pere Ubu, which bore the brunt of the collapse to the point where it nearly bent the entire disk backwards, and it appears to have come out of that ordeal intact. Gives me a delicate little flutter of hope in my chest for the rest.

But you know, aside from such things as this, I am wildly, blissfully, dee-leeEEeer-iously content with where I am living now. I love the space. To be able to extend my arms and not touch wall or furniture or wallop somebody in the head. To live on the first floor so that I don't have to trudge down three flights of steps in the cold to warm up my car or carry trash to the dumpster (and no more dumpsters!). To have my own washer and dryer and not have to feed it quarters or wait for my neighbor-lady to take her husband's dainties out of the machine before I can use it. To be in walking distance from the grocery store as opposed to the porn store (I can't believe I just said that). To be just a ten minute drive to work. To have a private yard. To not have the rental office maintenance crew walk in when I'm stark naked whenever they feel like it to do whatever they please to the place. And most of all how utterly, beautifully.... silent... everything is. I can hear the ceiling fan hum above my head. Heck, I can even hear the blood swishing between my ears. And the voices inside my head are much clearer and more easily defined now, thank you for asking. Er, you were asking, weren't you?

Also, I want to make note of this word here. A word that might be of significant importance to the future of my well being if things progress like I think they have:

Azithromycin.

I'm taking it for my cough now, and it actually seems to be, uh, working. And I took it back in January when I had it again and I think it may have knocked it out then as well. Holy cats. This could be very, very, potentially, um umm ummmmm big.