I pulled a muscle in my brain yesterday trying to figure out how Megan Thee Stallion can bumshake like that on TV but radio stations have pulled Baby, It’s Cold Outside and then I pulled another muscle trying to stop trying to figure it out

So I can’t really say with certainty – because I’ve never danced except during an extended stumble, an eclipse, or tequila – but I don’t think bumshaking is dancing unless of course you want to dissolve all distinctions in which case look at me, I can fly!

Raining today so I didn’t take Daisy which she’s perfectly okay with because for whatever reason, she’s afraid of the rain and is now sleeping with her head under my bed. I’m surprised she found enough room because holy shit do I ever need another cull or at least a new place to hide shit because if I pull one more tank top or pair of shorts out of a hat, I’m going to lose it which is redundant because of course I will. I lose everything.

Even after I find it I lose it

I got more books from the library, Fleabag for one, which if you haven’t read you totally should because it’s filthy and funny and tender and brilliant and also it’s a script which I love because it’s like a kaleidoscope of crazy shit happening all at once and I love that.

Obviously

The other is a book on macrame because as I might have said before I am fresh out of surfaces around here and lots of cuttings look like they’re going to take things into their own hands and go snuggle into a stray pile of dirt or jetsam or whatever you call that stuff in the corners. Or maybe they’ll find their way under my bed like ficking triffids which spellcheck didn’t even bother with.

Anyway. Figured I’d make some hanging pot thingys, you know, why knot?

So I leafed through the macrame book on my way from the library to Canadian Tire hot in pursuit of too much string and then to Michael’s, where they have more expensive string, and then I came home and really looked at the book and now I think never the twine and I think why knot in a different way (because I couldn’t decide between punchlines) and I don’t think macrame is my thing after all but I hope you’ll give it a whirl because I’m giving you string for Christmas.