Stream of Consciousness

So while taking a bath today, as I am wont to do at basically any given moment, I googled the tub maker just for the fuck of it.

Turns out my bath tub cost almost as much as my car. Whoever put it in was not joking around. It was imported from a designing house in Paris.

It is weird to own such a nice thing.

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My friend Kaleb took one look around our basically empty house and said, "Well, if anyone else ever came in here, they would think you guys were squatters."

It's true, we are basically just camping indoors. I feel like an interloper sometimes. Like the only place I belong is the basement, where we have a couch and a few old love seats huddled around the TV.

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The fam is kind of driving me mad. My dad pseudo-divorced his pseudo-wife of three months and is now trying to date one of my mom's friends. My brother is being hired by some embassy. My sister-in-law is having a baby. The kid asked me what masturbating was today.

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I am trying to eat healthy, but so help me God, if I do not eat something other than chicken and peppers and oatmeal tomorrow I may shoot up my neighborhood.

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My Kindle is living up to its name by warming my heart.