When a post of mine that’s at least a week old gets 10 or so likes in one morning by a buncha randos I don’t know, that lets me know that post has been featured somewhere since I don’t allow reblogs.

Which… (tumblr are you listening?) makes me go back to that post and mark it private or just delete it.

This place is just a journal for me. I don’t care about likes or reblogs or notes, and honestly if something does get too much attention, it’s annoying. So whatever “orbit” or whatever I sometimes end up in… I don’t want it.

If someone had walked into my workplace just now, they’d have seen me and the receptionist each with one arm out of our long sleeves and hiking up our t-shirt sleeves to show each other our flower tattoos.

“If I were in a grocery store, you couldn’t talk enough to drown me”

I took a melatonin early last night and fell asleep while watching stupid YouTube stuff. Woke up… at some point… don’t know when, wrote 👆 that down, and fell back asleep.

I dunno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It’s going to get hot soon, so I’m using my oven as much as possible before I switch to summer-kitchen mode.

Since I grew up in the 80s, I know my murderer is on the other side.

My kid changed my kitchen board for today.

Goddamn it. Even my nicely curated Pinterest, where I go for all things wholesome and old fashioned and comforting… now it’s full of this AI bullshit.

One time I was in a bar talking to a Nigerian man named Cheidu and somehow or another we started talking about potatoes (I swear to god I can talk about other things sometimes I swear) and he said where he is from the potato skin is not considered food and he was a combination of amused and horrified that I would eat that. I always think of that conversation when I eat a baked potato.

The irony of Big Audio Dynamite’s “Rush” lyric “gotta get myself right outta here” being the last thing I hear before pulling into the shithole of a parking deck and losing satellite signal and trudging into work.

Also, when I first talk to a coworker for the first time for the day, either in person or via text or email, I always start with “good morning” or some other pleasantry. I don’t just jump right in with “hey check this for me” or whatever. Nobody else does. Why doesn’t anyone in this office ever have any damn common courtesy? Like… office etiquette is just DEAD here.

Black or White just came on the radio and I’m happy to report I still remember all of Macaulay Culkin’s rap

Cake baked before work and frosted on my lunch break. Chocolate funfetti cake with Oreo buttercream. I even got the food processor out to pulverize the cookies.

Anyway my littlest baby is 16 and wtf even you guys.

While digging for baking supplies yesterday I found my snack plates and decided I need to use them more regularly.

I baked a cake this morning and got down my gramma’s crystal cake plate. I also threw a couple potatoes in the oven since it was on. The cakes are on cooling racks and the potato won’t be eaten until lunch so I wanted to keep it covered.

I got my “non-connected” alarm set last night and I forgot how much better it is to be woken up, say, to the sounds of John Fogerty on a Magnavox clock radio from the 90s saying he’s ready to play (clap, clapclap), than my phone vibrating on the hard surface of my nightstand next to my head.

My goth tulips are blooming