Ian,
I have managed to do housework this weekend. Something in my house still stinks, but I don’t know what it is or where it is. For all I know, it may well be all in my head.
My vacuum started making a concerning clunking sound, so I didn’t finish the entirety of my bedroom. I’m not sure when I’ll feel up to getting it fixed, but I’m going to have to.
A little over a week ago, I got a tattoo, in memoriam of you. I know you hated tattoos, and that’s one of the reasons I got it. If you hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have gotten another one. I was done until someone else close to me died. Then you did. So fuck your dislike of tattoos. And fuck you for leaving and making me get another one.
In truth, I’m not that angry… I just have that contrary streak.
I really can’t think of anything else.
Still miss you.
-Iris
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