Glassware and false eyelashes

Surrounded by a list of terms ranging from Musica enchiriadas to Bela Bartok, bunnies, and empty bottles of sangria, I begin an adventure of writing at it's most *eloquent* state. Soon enough I will begin school again pursuing a master's in conducting; something that will surely get me a job immediately after I graduate. For now, however, I get to explain my glorious life to you - my loyal, fabulous readers. In the first time in roughly ten years, I get to live with my sister and her partner Gary. Meow. What this fantastic journey may bring, I do not know. So far, it has brought much laughter and other sentimental crap that I need not mention.

Thus far at the bunny ranch, my life has consisted of organizing my crap, throwing out a bunch of it, and nearly calling Hoarders on this entire household. The tip of the iceberg was when I discovered a fake eyelash on a glass in a tub of glassware my sister had moved from her old place. Obviously this was the natural place to store something of most paramount importance. I discovered this among the seventeen blue tubs of crap that littered the music room.

...

"We'll only need to bring, like, one more car load of crap over."

Three trips later, Liz's old place is finally vacant, and after much organization (on her part), we have a home. Home crap home. The bunnies are acclimatizing (2 points for me) to the new place pretty well (as far as we can tell.) Their fortress is secure and their little diva asses are generally happy. A newly painted gold bookcase houses my scores and other bits of random music, graced by white orchids that I had been eyeing at the local Home Despot.

Needless to say, life is fabulous, ridiculous, and filled with beer runs to local stores fifteen minutes before closing time. I hope this small ray of sunshine and bitchery lights up your life.

From the bottom of my cold and jaded heart,

Mme. J.J.