Like The Top of the Chrysler Building

The pollen is totally stealing my lunch money. Apologies to people I've been owing a phone call too, but I can't talk now. Literally.

It's hard to clean up a shockingly messy apartment when you never have. I've only ever done the most nominal cleaning and sorting, mostly to keep things sanitary. I'm compulsive about personal cleanliness (thanks Calvin!) and so I'd occasionally spot-clean this dump to make sure I wouldn't have to touch anything dirty. But beyond that I've allowed things to get really Grey Gardens, and now I'm trying to turn over a new leaf. That leaf is big and heavy, though.

I'm culling my oversized comic book collection. I'm doing this by reading it. I read a comic, ask myself if it'll be worth reading in five years, and again in ten, and again in fifteen. Many comics which have survived other culls are landing on the recycling pile now. No, I won't sell them or give them away. Some of them have mildew or spores, so I'd hate to pass that junk on to anyone. A friend tells me to get a dehumidifier. I need to, but that's one item on a very long list.

My latest DVD recommendation: Without You I'm Nothing, a Sandra Bernhardt concert-style performance. This demonstration of cabaretesque divahood was just what I needed, considering I've got to slog through our cabaret one more time, this time after traveling to Atlanta. I'll try to borrow a little of her carefully crafted sparkle.