I love June

June is definitely my favorite month.

The weather is nice all month, summery without being ridiculously hot yet. The snow's definitely gone and you can put away your socks for a few months, plus there's the anticipation, knowing that it's nice here now, but the summer season is almost upon us, so better savor it while it lasts before the crowds get too bad and we start wishing for September.

My birthday's this month, so I spend part of the month building up to that.

June is the end of the school year (but not the college year). It makes me think of days spent leisurely wandering around my high school, waiting for the bus after a Regents exam or moseying over to McDonalds for lunch on one of the few days we could actually come and go freely, take a morning test, leave for a while, wander back for the afternoon session.

You and LJ: A pointless survey thing

Stolen from ruxqiero

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Holy friggin' crap

OK, so I was hearing this noise in my closet. For at least a week, I've heard it, but only sometimes, this really faint scraping noise.

I got sick of it tonight and decided to dig through the pile of shit in the bottom of my closet. I had a feeling I'd find a mouse or something, something creepy that had kept a low profile way too long.

My closet, btw, was only recently adopted as mine. Before that, it was the spare-room closet. It's still got a whole bunch of random shit that hasn't been used or moved in forever piled in the bottom. I also have a bigger pile like that in the corner. My mom swears she's gonna clean it all out one of these days, 'cause it's not my shit -- it's mostly her shit.

So anyway, I kneel down and begin to excavate.

First, I come across the funny -- a garbage bag full of white company uniform shirts, my dad's. But they're white, the color managers wear. And my dad hasn't been a shop manager since... '97, I think? I think it was my freshman year. Maybe sophomore, could've been '98. In any case, I found this whole bag of shirts from way back then. They're uniform shirts, one of those things where the uniform people own them and pick them up to wash them once a week. Wouldn't you think somebody would've said something? Asked for them back, maybe, or maybe charged my dad for losing a whole bag full of shirts? I guess not. At least 5-6 years later, here they sit, forgotten.

And then, I got to the bag I thought was probably the center of the problem -- a heavy-paper department-store shopping bag with some old yarn in it. I steeled myself, and I yanked open one corner to peek inside.

Something moved.

I'm pretty sure I screamed. I'm amazed the parents didn't come running. I don't think they even woke up. Good thing I wasn't being murdered or something.

I braced myself, I opened the bag again, and there was this bug. Big spider, maybe or small grasshopper -- I didn't look all that closely before I stomped on the bag to squish it.

I really hope that was the scraping noise, that I've fixed it now.