Cinnamon Pancakes to Throw Away

I went to my grandmother’s this weekend because she had a birthday party and I love her and homo sapiens commonly celebrate a full solar rotation with a party. And she is old and soft and used to make me food when I was small. I also went to Ikea to get things and stuff for my house because I did not have anythings or anystuffs before.

I now have some shelves and a coffee table. Two lamps. A teapot (I decided I am the kind of person that drinks tea, now) and other random bullshit. I made my obnoxious Viking friend Bryn pick it all out for me, because she is good at that stuff and otherwise my house would look like a hobbit-hole. Not that I don’t love hobbit-holes, but I want to sell this house someday. And Bryn would have yelled at me if I didn’t let her choose, and she’s very opinionated, and I don’t care enough about things like curtains for it to be worth fighting over.

She said she wanted me to talk about her on here.

She is also very, very short.

So there.

Being at my grandmother’s birthday party and being at Ikea were the only times when I was not in a car either driving there or back. I’d say about twenty hours of total drive time. My brother Bryan and I both have the same tired “I’ve been driving a car too long, and it’s night time” hallucinations, which is that we see giant machines out in the distance that look like they’re made of piles or sticks or dead insects the size of dinosaurs and they’re building… well, who knows? I just know that when I start to see them it’s time to pull over into a Rest Area and Go the Fuck to Sleep.

I left during daylight hours so I didn’t see any on the way out there. I started to see the Giant Dead Insect Machines at around midnight in Yakima on the way back home, so I pulled over into a rest-stop to sleep for fifteen minutes. I thought I was fine so then I powered on through. I started to see them again at about 2am just outside Pendleton and that’s when I decided I needed to get some sleep for serious. It felt like a Rest Area would never arrive, so I pulled over in a “View Point” in some snowy hills and passed out for like three hours awkwardly wrapping myself around some curtain rods, etc.

Yes, I know it’s weird to have vivid hallucinations when you’re tired. From conversations with other people I understand it’s not terribly common. But it is sometimes nice in a “oh, this really breaks up the tedium of my every day life” way to be piss-your-pants terrified by some Lovecraftian insect machines the size of mountains that you are a little bit aware aren’t actually real.

To stay awake until I could find a place to pull over, I started singing really loudly along with the radio in the car with the windows rolled down.*

But anyway, I made it home where the first thing I did was go to the bathroom and speak in some ancient Angelic language while doing so for like twenty minutes. I don’t know what I was saying, but like that scene in the Shawshank Redemption where Red hears that classical music out in the prison yard, I’d like to think it was something too beautiful for words.

Then I slept for like five hours. And several hours ago I got up and put together all of my Ikea furniture. I can never understand why people have such difficulty with that kind of stuff. It never takes me more than three or four minutes to put that stuff together. And I don’t aggressively sit down and decide to put together Ikea furniture at a dickish speed to rub it in people’s faces. It’s just… kind of obvious.

What else?

Oh, I finally got most of my books out of my pantry now that I have shelves. I did this while watching a really neat show on Netflix called “Todd and the Book of Pure Evil” which seemed like a show I would have regularly tuned in for back when I was in high school. Anyway, I can’t go to the same place for non-salted peanuts and Stephen King anymore, which is probably for the best.

I ran over to my mother’s house to drop some stuff off for my little sister that is school related and then I came home to make some cinnamon pancakes that I threw away after I was done making them when I realized I didn’t actually want cinnamon pancakes. I just wanted to make some as a form of recreation.

I did drink my glass of non-fat milk though, because I am still trying to trick my brain into being okay with that shit.

Anyway, I’m exhausted. I feel like I probably died last night and what I’m experiencing now is just some kind of “flash forward” for what my life would have been like had I not careened off the side of a mountain into a Giant Insect Death Tower. I’ll probably fall asleep and wake up with my throat slit in a car staring into the eye of Cthulu before everything finally goes black forever, this time.

Or something.

*I am getting mildly embarrassed about how empowered Kelly Clarkson makes me feel.