We're Out, Where's Our Money?

Yesterday we went to the house and got pretty much the last of everything. There are two empty filing cabinets that belong to Luke that he says he can live without. There is no room in my locker for them at the moment. The bathroom and bedroom are clean, but the office is full of misc stuff and paper for recycling. The renter in me felt like we needed to do more. But we were never renters. The trash and recycling bins were full downstairs, so we said to hell with it and left.


We wanted to go to Orycon. I've heard it's a fun convention, and I understand some Bay Area folks I like sometimes come up for it. It was on the list of "probably maybe" things, but while I was in Madison, the hotel filled up, and when I got back, everything else, you know, happened. So no Orycon.


Luke and I have been told to go fuck ourselves for Thanksgiving this year. Fine. Bitch can cook everything and clean the house by herself. I wonder when she'll notice that the vacuum cleaner is gone. It belongs to Luke, so we took it with us. Last year Luke and I slaved to clean up the house for a dinner of more than 20 people, and we cooked several dishes and cleaned up afterwards too. It was a group effort by the three of us. Vonda made a toast in front of everybody "to Jane, for all her hard work putting this dinner on".

Great, nice to know how highly we're regarded in some circles...

The sight of Jane makes me physically ill, so we weren't planning on going even if we were welcome. Luke and I will do something else, and maybe start our own Thanksgiving tradition.