Day Something Something: Unfucking: The Next Generation


So what happened? Well, you know, shit. Basically, I got super depressed, which thing cannot be unfucked by blogging.

I don’t really have anything funny to say about it. Depression is the motherfucking worst. Trufax.

And also, I let every project go. Accordion, writing slowly, being a person you’d want to spend time with, any hope of a clean house, everything.

Instead I cried on the inside and dragged ass though a novella, a novelette, leaving a publisher that was screwing me, a trip to Finland, a trip to New York, a trip to North Carolina, and the advent of summer, a season I only barely tolerate.

And I’m not gonna lie, finding these gifs takes like nine times as long as the post itself. When you can barely summon up the faith in life to like, make breakfast, it gets daunting, yo.

But I’m better now? At least moving toward better. Which means getting my ass back in gear because things, they still get fucked, and need unfucking. Plus my husband is starting a new job tomorrow, and it is a really good one. A really good one that allows him to work at home full time. So we’re reorganizing our lives, and YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THAT SHIT.

Tonight I unfucked my office. It was a goddamned mess. Crap all over the place. I made it pretty! I even windexed the dog’s nose prints off the window, as that is where she runs to man the gun turret against the Eternal Mailman Threat.

And in cleaning, I found a thing I had never noticed before on the windowsill, left by some previous tenant or child.

Aw. Point taken, universe.


Volcanos and Bacon and Me

Two hours later:

Not shown: living room and dining room, equally unfucked!

Then I put the chicken we had for dinner last night in the stock pot with some onions, hard chorizo, and apples so that I could have amazing stock for all my cooking needs.

Chuffed with victory, I decided to take Unfuck Your Habitat's advice and go after our kitchen floor with VINEGAR. Our floor is off-white and seafoam green checkerboard, which is a really hard color to keep clean as it looks slightly dingy even when clean. The vinegar worked well! So I decided to put some baking soda in the spray bottle to help whiten up the squares.

Only for a moment did the back of my brain go: wasn’t there some kind of science fair thing kids did with this in movies where they have science fairs, but you did not do because your school didn’t roll that way?


So basically, I just stood there letting it spooge all over itself and onto the floor which is where I was going to clean anyway. A WINNAR IS MY SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION.

I’m kind of skivving off dinner and making BLTs, which is my favorite sandwich OF ALL TIME. In the sandwich Olympics, it salutes the goddamn flag and makes the East German judges cry tears of bacony redemption.

But also, you know, dead easy to make and on top of that I am not actually making the important part which is the bacon because though I can make French pastries and shit when I make bacon, no matter what, this is pretty much what goes down:


So my dinner duties will consist of slicing bread and tomatoes. IRON CHEF CAN’T BE ARSED BATTLE.

Now on to work-work. It’s only 5:30 pm. Should be fine.


Day Actual 1 (Evening Edition)

ALL RIGHT, SELF. How did the second half of the day go?

Well. I wrote for an hour and a half, attempting the new Do Not Kill Self method.

Bought my plane ticket to New York! Which I am going to on Tuesday! But it stresses me out so much to arrange travel I put it off and get to pay the idiot tax!

I am a fucking peasant when it comes to money. All terrified and THIS ONE POTATO REPRESENTS MY SOUL WHAT DO YOU MEAN COMPOUND INTEREST?

Then…I started to slip into the Internet Pit. It was exciting, that people actually did want to hear about this crap! That my complete inability to run my damn life is moderately amusing! And then there was Reddit and Twitter and mah gossipblawgs. (Yes, shut up, I read celebrity gossip blogs, I could justify with 39 flavors of deconstructive societal classist WHATEVER but this shit right here is supposed to be REAL, SON, so yeah, I know more about Lohan than I should.)

So I started to slide into Stare At the Screen Until Soul Seeps Out Through My Eyeballs mode. And it really was just the prospect of: “if I do more things I can post more funny gifs” that got me out of that funk and down to my office. And people seeming to actually get something out of this mess of goofy gifs and swears. Hi everyone! But it is SO EASY to be like LOOKIT WHAT I DID AFORE NOON. I’M ON BREAK! And I was slumping into that time vortex of click…click…click…refresh.

Obviously, I have Relationship Issues with my Internet.

But then! I was all HULK LIKE THAT ONE SONG and if I did one more thing I could reference it on tumblr! Seriously, that was my motivation. That’s it.

So I made an invoice LIKE AN ACTUAL BOSS. I have never made one before! It was so pretty! I’m gonna get paid!

And I made dinner! I checked my clock, we sat down at 6:20, which is some kind of LAND SPEED RECORD around here. I was bored by the prospects of the only real meat we had, which was trout—delicious, but sort of sits there on the plate like a big lump of protein and it wasn’t inspiring me. SO I POACHED THAT MOFO in coconut cream and almonds, made a strawberry arugula salad and parmesan black pepper bread (not the bread, just the putting cheese and pepper on it) and put the same strawberries on some Irish soda bread for dessert. BAM.


Then I cleaned the kitchen THE SAME NIGHT. Like, I got it dirty, and THEN I CLEANED IT. I did not wait for the dishes to gain sentience and judge me! I also mopped the floor! I only did that because we have guests coming on Friday!



Yes, we still had our Christmas tree up! Outside lights, too! It is Ash Wednesday! SUCCESS.

Beastie and I stripped the tree, jammed it out of the door, boxed everything up, moved the bookcases back into the library and put away the wrapping paper that was STILL HANGING OUT from December.

Much of these are minor victories. It’s easy to do well on the first day of a new plan. The flip side of that CLEAN ALL THE THINGS comic we all love is that it works for a week and then you’re back crying into your gruel. But I’ve been saying “Tomorrow I’ll wake up early and work AND clean AND do things I’m scared of AND have dinner ready before eight AND blog…” basically since I moved to Maine and this is literally the first day I have done it.


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