SUCH a relaxing night...

I came home last night and forced myself to relax. I really have a difficult time relaxing--I think that's one reason I like to drink and get massages, because they force your body to slow down. I'm such an A-type personality, I have a hard time slowing down naturally--I always crave stimulation. Even at church or when I'm getting a massage, I'm thinking of ten different things.

So. Last night, came home around 8:30. Did NOT turn on the TV. Made myself sit and finish one of the books I got from the library, Not Much Just Chillin. I sprawled on the big rug, and up in my loft (Tatia, of course, insisted on sprawling fatly on me, in turn). I just lay there and read. Eventually I left to get a quick massage--there's a new Qi Gong place on 9th Ave., a little more expensive than the other places in the neighborhood, but they're open until 11:00. Came back and read some more.

I need to watch less TV. I watch some great stuff (I have two hours' worth of Colonial House on tape, plus A Wrinkle in Time which I'd like to rewatch) but I also watch a lot of crap. I need less stimulation, less background noise.

I want to get cracking on The Illiad. There's so much great stuff out there that I haven't read--a lot of the ancient classics (I'd like to read some Sappho, and some more of the ancient playwrights like Aristophanes), all of F. Scott Fitzgerald, the Lord of the Ring books. Tons and tons of great stuff. There's a classic episode of The Twilight Zone called "Time Enough at Last" about a librarian who is the sole survivor of a nuclear war and is happy because now he can finally read everything he ever wanted to. Naturally he breaks his glasses.

Wyrd Lady on the First Floor

I entered my building last night right behind another resident, Fran, who lives on the second floor. She was telling me about the weird lady on the first floor who yells at people through the door. Apparently she really IS weird and has been in the hospital a couple of times already this month. Fran also said she's had problems with alcohol. My latest annoyance with her (besides the screaming through the door when the door slams and we don't struggle to make sure it closes quietly--it's heavy as hell and slams on its own) is her constantly leaving SHIT out in the hallway. There is always something out there--right now it's a chair and a metal grocery cart. For a couple of days her fucking mattress was sticking most of the way out of her door, blocking the hallway. I called the landlord about that.

So, Fran filled me in, and I complained about the lady. I mentioned Duncan and Doug's encounter with her, and complained that my friends shouldn't have to be harassed. She said she'd witnessed that, and had nothing but good things to say about you guys--said you were very polite and tactful. Which really wasn't my point (of course you were polite) but was nice to hear. She said I should complain to Milt, although I'm not sure what he can do. She's not really breaking the law, and if she's sort of crazy, I don't think anything Milt says will make a difference. Fran mentioned her cat so I had to meet the kitty, who looks like a mixture of Calico and Russian blue. She was all ducking her head under my hand for head skritches, and then dancing away. Quite the head skritch tease.