Stepdad sitting

This week has been either busy or terrifically dull, depending on outlook.

I moved on Saturday just in time to sleep in the new spot for two nights before hopping on a plane home to Michigan where I've been looking after my stepfather. He's suffered from blood-clots in the lungs and minor strokes, as well as a lifetime of anaphylactic shock brought on by the merest hint of exercise. He's generally okay, but needs help. It's tedious, but mostly not too bad.

Stab directly into heart in case of aerobics!

Still, I'm anxious to get back to my largely unpacked apartment and start positioning stuff and getting organized. I'm moving in with my girlfriend, which is exciting, but she won't move until probably the beginning or middle of next month, which still gives me precious little time to get things organized just right before she comes and ruins the couch fort I'm building. Girls!

The kitchen will be my domain since I'm the one who finally threw up my hands in frustration and organized her kitchen so I could cook there. I also had to buy her knives because the vaguely wedge-shaped slabs of metal she was using were better suited to tenderizing meat than cutting it, and honestly, if you were trying to slice cheese, you'd have been better off with a mallet. I actually don't understand how so many people get by with crappy crappy knives. With a good knife you can do just about anything in the kitchen. A bad knife just causes you to cut yourself, or sometimes helpful sorts who happen along to inquire what's taking so long.

Now, the week is coming to a close and I'm feeling both a bit bored out of my skull and as though I've done nothing at all all week. I had big plans for accomplishing things while I was here, but most of my attention's been focused on ye olde stepdad. I obviously have time, as I'm writing here rather than doing what I should be up to, but this is sort of therapeutic. Shortly I'll dive into what I'm supposed to be doing and see what I can salvage from this week running aground in Michigan. Then later, we'll go for a walk, assuming my stepdad's throat doesn't close up when I mention the possibility of a little exercise.