Hanging Out

I spend a lot of time at home these days. Reading magazines and blogs and the first couple pages of actual books. Thinking about the things I want to do, like write and learn to sew, and how I should just do them already.


Sitting on the couch. Watching TV. Eating. And applying for jobs, I am doing a lot of that.


But really, to be honest, this staying in thing isn't bad at all. I like doing nothing.


Most of the time, I'm not even bored. I'm totally content to just sit around. I don't really want to go anywhere or call anybody.


Should I be worried about this?


Here's a wall of my dad's photos:


My room:


Sunday night after a party:



And before that same party:




This is the accidentally vegan applesauce bread I made:


This is Slurpy, the feral cat:


This is the bouquet my father got me for Valentine's Day next to my mother's flowers (I can't remember what kind hers are).

Still, I would like to earn some money so I could buy those jeans I loved at Zanna...