I had a pleasant evening with surrogate family number two.
Got to play piano and it was wonderful. I missed it. So. Much.
Practiced some parts for our choir concert tomorrow.
But of course when my dad called
and I got around to telling him that HEY I MIGHT HAVE SHIPPED THE ALBUM TO THE GAINESVILLE ADDRESS AND UH THAT’S WHY IT HASN’T GOTTEN TO YOU IN THREE MONTHS
of course he got all sour
and took it out on me
so when I mentioned the piano
of course all he had to say was
“You can’t even finish a song.”
They’ve said that for fucking years
and I’ve made every effort to finish every song I start
because I grew tired of hearing it
I wish I’d put the Damp Rid in my closet sooner. It smells a lot nicer than death.