I started to write something this afternoon, whining about something or other, and then just decided to stop and get done what I was putting off.

My fish tank needed cleaning.

My goldfish always seem to represent the state of my happiness. The tank is filthy. Reginald and Jing-Tei are valiantly trying to deal with it. I owe them a scrubbing, and in the time leading up to my deciding to do it, my head always gets messier and messier inside, the way your room looks when you're in the middle of cleaning it, piles of flotsam making little landscapes on the floor, uncovering old things that dredge up memories long packed up and stored away, and you want to save them all, touch them all again, but you have work to do. You have to clean your fish tank.

Today had downs -- like what the scale told me when I got up this morning, like the way mom was later that evening, like the way I miss my dad, like how money and mom and moving made me cry on Andrew's shoulder tonight -- and it had ups -- like the best game of Monopoly I've ever played, using Lily's Simpson's Treehouse of Horror Monopoly set which I played with herself and Andrew, like the way Andrew let me cry on his shoulder, like the relaxed feeling I got afterward while he played with my hair and told me the plot of Star Wars.

But most importantly of all, I got my fish tank clean. Here I am, airing my dirty laundry for you all. So to speak. It's not pretty at first, but going through the process is a beautiful thing, and will be maybe as therapeutic for you to watch as it was for me to do. Here's to spring cleaning.



( From Filth To Fabulous! Click to see more... )

Next I'm going to tackle the inside of my brain. It needs a good scrubaroo.

G'night, lovies.