Getting a slow start to the day. Probably, because my main agenda item for today is/are vacuuming up mouse droppings, throwing bleach and disinfectant on every hard surface and setting the goddamn mouse traps I bought. As my sister points out, the central irony of the shit that’s plagued me this past month is I’m actually too much of a pussy to kill a mouse. OK, she didn’t call me a pussy, but still and all, she was thinking it. (Although, come to think of it, given the pun, if I were a pussy, I would eat mice.) Still, though, I suck at killing things, and lord knows I try.

Oh, and as symbols go, I previously referenced living with a mouse as akin to consorting with some of the vermin I’ve dated. Then, as by the magic of familiars, I ran into an ex-beau last night. He was driving through Harvard Square, and I was walking to a comedy show. The funny part is we dated a million and a half years ago, but we worked together in the past few years. He never quite fit into that workplace and left. I stayed, thinking I understood the place better than he. Oops, got that fucking wrong. Hugely fucking wrong.

Anyway, he seemed shocked that (a) I will likely be moving sooner rather than later and (b) because of a guy (or mostly to be with a guy, but also to expand my life). Nothing like that sweet feeling of talking with an ex who dumped you hard about your newer, better life and loves.

The comedy show was great. I saw Todd Barry, who mocked people who would write in their ‘blogs about the show and specifically told me not to link to him. So, fuck you Mr. New York Comic. You’re not the boss of me. Good show, though, and good reminder that high energy jumping around on stage, which is pretty common and over-hyped, is not necessary at all.

Other than that, it ain’t a bad day if it begins deciding what flavor Pop Tart you want. Even better, is getting a call that I’m in with this project. I’m doing what I can to help unseat the current power regime, even if it means the total humiliation of my acting.