If a cow ever got the chance...

Sorry for the disgusting entry on Thursday. I was going to write about my armpit hair on Saturday, but then I came to my senses. (Instead, I direct you to read this lovely essay on the topic, which basically says everything I would have.)

Am thinking more and more seriously about moving in with C. We hung out for most of this extended weekend and it was fine. We went out for sushi, did some light reading (me: The Forever War, thinly disguised sci-fi allegory (written in 1974) about the Vietnam War--hasn't held up too well as sci-fi although the orgy scenes were funny; C: Courtney Love: The Real Story, which we both agree is crapulence masquerading as biography (it reads like the author's main intention was to get Courtney to hang out with her), even though we like Courtney Love (at least until this whole "who controls Nirvana" thing got really nasty).)

I think it's time to start a new sentence.

We also cooked a huge Thai meal on Saturday night (peanut curry noodles, Mussaman curry with pineapple and tofu, pina coladas, and some weird but good drink with rum, ginger ale, and crushed lemongrass). Domestic bliss. Then he put all the dishes in the sink and by the time I finally got around to washing them, yesterday, the drain was completely clogged with like a quarter-cup of soba noodles, ten pieces of lemongrass, and random pieces of plastic. He's trying really hard to clean up--he just doesn't know how yet. (I do actually know how--I just don't do it most of the time.) The fact that he's trying is helping to alleviate one of my major concerns: if we move in together am I going to end up doing all the housework all the time? Because that would not be OK.

The problem is that all his life his mom has done everything, and I do mean everything. She still changes his sheets, washes his dishes, cleans his bathroom, etc. All you have to do over there to get a clean, folded T-shirt is to take it off, leave it on the floor, and come back the next day... So I do appreciate that he's trying to make this apartment less crunky. It may just take some time, is all.

Oh, also--last thing--moving in together would be CHEAP. I'm paying $540 for this studio (in kind of a neat, mostly Vietnamese part of town). He wants to move someplace close to Midway Airport, which is kind of by his parents--it's not an interesting area but you can get to interesting places on the el--and a 2 or 3-bedroom apartment there runs about $500. Split that in half and I could finally pay off my credit cards.

I don't know. Today 60 percent of me thinks it's a great idea and 35 percent thinks I should move on my own to Minneapolis, where I would work in a bakery and write my novel. The other 5 percent is drinking tea and doesn't care right now.

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