Stuff, and things

Dear Ex,

I'm cleaning my room. I found a bunch of your stuff, left over from almost four years ago when we'd been living together and moved out of the cabin and left most of our stuff at my parents' house when we went off to college in Arizona.

My parents and I will be dropping off a bag of your stuff off, probably in your driveway.

Please take note of the blue ribbon in the bag. It used to have a knot tied in it. The knot has been cut. I'm fairly sure you have already figured out that it's over, very much over, but please take the blue ribbon and the return of whatever of your stuff I can dredge out of my room as further evidence against the two of us ever shagging, dating, being friends, speaking at any length, or ever getting within a hundred feet of each other again.

No more love,
she who decidedly isn't your wife.

Weather

I'm still in Fairbanks. There is actual sun! Maybe I'll be actually able to breathe!

My allergies are acting up again, despite the loratadine. I think it's dust. Bleh.

There are still one-micron particles in the air, so I should really avoid singing. I should also see if my parents have any dust masks for the cleaning of my room.

Holiday fun

We have a tradition of going out to the virtal grandparents' cabin for Independence Day almost every year.

This year it was sort of a small crowd. My virtual grandpa has been dead for some time. My virtual grandma (who's getting frailer every year) was on vacation. My virtual aunt was there, though, and her daughter (she, Ginger, and I were quite the scary group when we were tiny). Also, my virtual uncle (my virtual aunt's brother), and his adopted son.

My virtual cousin (the boy, who's 14 or so) was playing assorted video games. He's calmed down quite a lot and is no longer quite so dreadful as he was when he was first fostered with my virtual uncle and his (now separated) wife. He was playing Need for Speed: Underground and Final Fantasy X. The Little Fayoumis will like NFS: Underground, though it may be a Very Bad Driving Role Model, given that it's city streets with far more familiar cars, cars like the goddamn one that sets off car alarms.

Eventually we wound up watching the latter half of PotC. FatherSir had never seen this, and neither had Mama, so there was quite a bit of explaining to do. My friend and I started into the Legolas or Aragorn debate. She's for Legolas. I'm for Aragorn. Evidently my virtual aunt is for Aragorn too. I solved that argument: since both of those two are horse-crazy, Shadowfax trumps both Legolas and Aragorn.

A fine time was had by all until my virtual cousin's mother came in, at which point FatherSir decamped and we all followed suit.

Now, I'm at home nursing my mosquito bites. Ow. Itch. Ow. Did I mention I'd gone about four years without being sucked on? Fortunately, FatherSir has strong antihistimine/analgesic cream, and I am making liberal use of same. ...Except on my back, which I can't reach with the stuff.

Ow. Itch. Ow.