this imploding heart

Like I was 17,

Like I was 17, that would be a scream
Apparently, a siezmologist at the U predicts another quake in Seatown sometime after friday of this week and before the 23rd. So there's that. Anyway...

I got a voicemail while I was at rehearsal last night from my building manager. He said he had taken a crew into my apartment that afternoon to look at the fireplace. (I was also trying to figure out why one of the lighting instruments wouldnt work at the time, so I wasnt paying the kind of attention the message needed). I haphazardly made out that some kind of sheet would have to be put in place inside my apartment, and that they would be coming back, so could I please get my crap out from in front of the fireplace.
I erased the message and fixed the thing before I realized that random construction guys would be running around my apartment at some random interval. It kinda freaked me out, but it also gave me the motivation to scrub my kitchen floor and wash the dishes until the wee hours of the morning. The long and short of all of this is, I am turning into my mother. Do I really care if these guys see my dishes? I guess I do, now. Damn.