...and then i accidentally hit Reply All.

ding dong, the mouse is dead, set off bug bombs, fumigate my bed, ding dong, that little mouse is dead. he's gone where the rodents go (in the trash, mashed in low) below, below, below, below, below, below, below (ding dong the mouse is dead, plastic trap, his small head). ding dong my little mouse is dead.

if something ever was worth singing about, this might just about be it. that little s.o.b. scared the life out of me each, and every single time he re-emerged from his pre-doom abode. that said, i've now set off my 10th or 11th bug bombs, which is not inexpensive. i've thrown away the deep ile shag carpet that the landlord had just put in my living room to soften noise for the neighbor. somehow, the mouse always left a trail of mouse beans deeply embedded in it. worse, he left me a legacy of lice or fleas which i've battled since shortly after my first week of living here. (for full affect, one needs to see the battle scars - literal - on my ankles from the gnawing and biting of the invisible itch offenders. hopefully one more bombing in short order will stop this expensive and toxic habit for a while. i hope so, there's almost nothing worse than when the people at the local home depot know you for regular visits filled with deep and insightful questions about the rodent control products in aisle one.

bob and bob junior number 2 both seem to be doing well. i guess they're "in lurve" she follows him everywhere he goes, even when his path trajectory changes (i.e. another attempt to enter my window while i was standing there - abort! abort!) bob is pretty quick on the toes so had no trouble avoiding direct hand-to-hand combat with me, however, bob number 2 junior, seems to be a little slower on the uptake, and almost got bitch slapped, or is that squirrel slapped?, backwards off the fire escape this time. she must be young. she'll learn.

i had a really nice afternoon on the fire escape yesterday. the trumpet vine i'd removed in may, at great effort, had finally had an upswing in growth from the neighbor below me. this means, again, my wall, my bathroom window, my fire escape floor were coated in vines. so i spent the day cutting, bundling and packing them so i could easily get them to the street for removal. in the course of doing this, i also removed an old air conditionning unit that was between my escape and the next building (vacant but currently being completely gut renovated, owned by the same guys that own my building). also found in the rubbish piled in the vines, a life size transformer/robot/thingy made of shiny silver and bright red plastic. he's missing an arm, as all well loved toys seem to be, but he still has potential. so, i stood him in the empty plastic planter i've saved full of dirt, squirrel poo and an occasional nut from bob's stash. he's now on the corner of my escape, standing guard against any evil that might fling in thru a SpaHa kitchen window. my favorite find of the day, absolutely, no exaggeration, a disembodied life size arm (black - or perhaps hispanic tan?). several of the fingers were severed and relocated before my arrival. over all, like any car crash, it was fascinating to see it in the pile of debris, but, for sheer normal reasons, i had to carefully (with rubber gloves - rodents you know!) remove the arm from the debris and relocate it into my rubbish sack for the sidewalk. not to worry, the car crash idea was still on my mind as i took out the trash, so i rearranged the arm to stick out the top of my closed and very lumpy bag of trash....i put it on the sidewalk and watched out the bedroom window occasionally, just to see the neighborhood reaction. needless to say, my bag of trash was gone from out front when i got back from the laundromat late last night. if i'd paid attention, i would be able to say what happened to the body parts, but alas, i really don't care.

i am trying to function like an adult of normal circumstances here. not always with the best results, admittedly. i'm still suffering depression, but it seems to be abating. the bad thing with this ebb is that now i'm having anxiety attacks and what i can only describe as paranoia. my doctor told me they can give me something for that now that i know how to explain it. i do need to go back to the doctor and get the medications and the bloodwork and the health straightened out. if i weren't afraid to answer the phone, listen to voicemails and finally return calls, maybe my life wouldn't always be so over whelming to me. it's weird, i used to talk on the phone for hours. back when i could be succinct. closer to succinct? now, it seems, i really only speak with my mom because it's ok. my friends are gone. i'm alone. 24. 7. it's quiet. it's scary. it's lonely. it's my life. and i need figure it out so i can play the leading role here. i mean, in every movie, there are two characters, right? leading man/woman and the best friend. i've always been the best friend. every time. for everyone. but shouldn't i be the leading man, atleast in my own life? that's what i've concluded recently. drugs aren't the solution, but they sure do help.

in the meantime, i'll continue to sit in my new, empty, mouse-proofed, flea-festered apartment and watch food network and movies on dvd. when i re-read that, i have to admit, life isn't bad. it's just ok. but i deserve better than ok. anyone does.