The has been a profound shift in some of my thinking lately. Not just about the ability to wear leggings un-ironically anymore. About outside. I KNOW RIGHT? We have been planning halfheartedly to do something with the prison yard* and this year we finally bit the bullet and found someone to build us a deck. And a new set of stairs. Ok, it was the stairs we really needed as our neighbour (whose back yard looks like a magical fairyland of awesome-but she did tell me yesterday that weeding that thing was "fucking awful") rebuilt hers last year and since they are attached. Well.. glargh. Also Lily dog can go down them without her back legs touching a single one they are so steep. And squishy. In a really bad way.
It's supposed to happen this week y'all. A DECK. At least it faces North so the dreaded yellow face won't be around too much. And now we have to outfit the fucker! It's gonna be bigger than my bloody bedroom. Which is not in fact, bloody. But holy shit outside furniture is expensive! And I can't find a swing that I like yet. Oh the trials of too much right?
Today is supposed to be 34 degrees (which is only 93 for you in the great SOUTH OF ME) and I am already sweating like a whore in church (miss you Dad) and I have an ingrown hair in my armpit, and I can't imagine being anymore uncomfortable (hi weight gain! fuck you!) but I'm sure I'll manage to feel it before the day is out. But not outside. At least not yet.
*the back yard. which is fenced with chain link and is barren of all goodness.
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