tavie.com

I do not like "home". "Home" is not home. This is my home. That other place is just some dump where the majority of my belongings gather dust.

I stuck with the game plan and went home to gather up my Feminism materials, and when I walked in, the Succubus was wearing one of my shirts. This one, specifically. Okay, you can't really see it, but it belonged to my friend's mom in the 70's and I love it. So, anyhow, I walk in and Little Geisha is wearing it with some belt and wooly sleeves from some skinny-person store, and I ask her to take it off. The clothes thing is An Issue with us. (I can't wear her clothes, but she's always taking mine without asking, leaving me to constantly do laundry for things I haven't even gotten a chance to wear.) Meanwhile, I'm tearing our dump apart looking for a book I need to study for my final, and not finding it.

Long story short (too late!), I ended up in hysterics, crying in the dust on my bedroom floor, bookless, gouge marks in my arms, sister out the door still in my shirt, and late for my study-date-sleepover-refuge at Mint Manor.

I was listening to 'Til Tuesday on the PATH train on the way over, and arrived at my stop as the song "J for Jules" was playing. I went downstairs and crossed the parking lot towards the car containing waiting goils, planning to ask them to play the CD in the car so I could finish listening to the song.

I open the car door, and what do you think is playing?

They're listening to that very CD, and they're listening to "J for Jules".

At the exact same moment. Same track. That I was listening to. And planning to ask them to play.

I felt better then.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:49 PM | shower me with attention