Reflecting over my life

Run by @Simonmanticorebones

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I forgot that I added that t0o my blog and not my main

[life-on-our-planet]

Although the okapi is currently listed as endangered there are programs in zoos across the world dedicated to protecting and breeding them. ©ZSL

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WHOSN DAMN DOG IS THAT

I was in a discord call, yet again, I talked about this with a newfound encouragement to sort of investigate this, I had some sort of intuition to go outside, so I did. I opened the door and immediately this dog jerked his head to me, he was standing by the car left behind, and I decided to kneel over and say "Come here!" and I'll never forget how he lowered his head whilst trotting excitedly over. Immediately he went to roll over on his back and just melted to someone petting him, I decided to give him water, gave him a soft blanket to lay on outside, and of course, the second I went inside, his howling continued until he wasn't alone. This dog refused to go, and well, it was freezing, so he was let inside and was ecstatic, and of course all he did really was sleep on the floor (much like me) in the comfort of a warm place to sleep. We had assumed he belonged to someone in the area, at first, however. It seemed nobody in such a small country town would claim him, but. Someone in particular had a microchip reader, and by closer look, she discovered he had front teeth missing, most likely an old dog. But he did have a microchip, it was last updated in 2016, and we were instructed to ask various shelters or vets about records. But it seemed this really didn't help to discover where he belonged, the shelter that did recognize his microchip said the information was outdated, and they couldn't reach anybody. He apparently was born around 2016, from what I remember. They didn't necessarily provide any other help, with just a log of his name being Cole, all they suggested after that was to just keep him at the shelter, but from my mother's judgement it wouldn't particularly do much. So they had tried to post about him, wondering if maybe the owners would see facebook posts, word of mouth, but after a while, they just met dead ends, with no other option but to just keep him.

This was a wild fucking change for me though, I had NEVER had a dog my entire life up until this point, my parents had more experience so that was probably the only thing that made him in good hands, but it took me a while to even adjust to hearing dog sounds, surprised to think I'm so desensitized from barking now when back then when I first heard Cole I was shocked. The worst of this was also the fact he at first didn't seem to know how to behave around cats, and had to get taught to not chase them, so the cats started to FUCKING HATE HIM, and flat out avoided going downstairs alltogether. But Cole in the end ended up being a really good boy, he's a chonky unit, had to be taught not to mess with cats, sometimes thinks too loud of a vehicle is going to threaten the property and will yell profanities. But he is a good boy to other things.

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The start of the year

So at some point in january, it was very very cold, we had a few snows, and a bit of just easy-going to adapt to a new home, I loved my bed, (I managed to sleep in it this time) I started playing games on my phone, in a state of grogginess. I heard really loud barks, they were repetitive and followed this prolonged howl, it was a deep one, it went out like a broadcast. I assumed at first it had to of been the next door neighbor's dogs, since they were always usually extremely loud since two of them were livestock guardians, and strangely enough had a weird opening to one of the horse pastures on our property?????? It was just a screen, but they'd always go there to talk to me, I'll probably never get answers. But the barking persisted, the howls more longer and wailing, it sounded honestly pretty close-by, I eventually got up and tried to not think about it too much, but then my brother entered my door way to say goodmorning as I read a text from my father. It had to do with a dog being out in the yard. So for a tinge of context, back in december my parents had decided to just often leave the front gate open, this stemmed from one day when my father had left the gate open one day, and to his pure terror, he started speaking to me in a state of strain in his voice like a timid linguini from ratatouille, turned out there were 4 cows eating our weeds and he was terrified that he'd somehow get run over, my mother laughed at him herding them outside the property. This was strange to me, why are there just cows, going wherever they like? Who's cows are missing? Well turned out there's just a rancher who likes to freeroam his cattle, now you'd think everyone would be going on in facebook groups for the county, but to my surprise, NAH it was an average day out here. My father had a peculiar idea, what if we left the gate open more? Those cows will eat our weeds! And they are docile! Huh... ok dad. So this led up to this morning, at 6 my mother had been about to leave the home to work, it was wintertime, a bit darker outside, she heads downstairs and sees something in the sliding glass door, her heart stops at the sight of the shadowy figure of an animal pressed up against the glass, looking at her attentively. She goes through all the options of what this can be, but as the brain slowly processed, it was a dog. My parents had no idea what to do in this situation, this was a medium sized dog just in the yard and seemingly hungry/thirsty. They hoped he'd go after a while, they had to leave, and hoped that me and my brother would just leave him be. So I was expected to not go outside, I went on about my day to make food, usually when I'd run into strays they'd pay no mind of me and move on, or we'd never pick them up. But this dog was not leaving, it was about noon at the time, he'd been there for hours, clearly. The barking, and howling had progressed, he continued to walk around the front yard, laying by the door, getting back up, walking around again, back to barking, and howling, occasionally turning around and going to the back to sit by the sliding glass door anticipating someone to see him there again, or to open it absent-mindedly.

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OHHHHH FOR FUCKS SAKE

YOU THOUGHT THE BRAIN TERMITES WOULD'VE GONE AWAY??? Oh OH REALLY

HAHAHHAHAUAUDHAUAUAU I remember one night I couldn't go up these damn stairs, so I was at my limit, not again. I was bawling at them, I caved, once more I'm SLEEPING )ON THE FUCKING FLOOR OH MY GOD Now this floor was a large space between the kitchen and it's island, to the fireplaces' dining table, it was a large brown rug over a hardwood floor, with the sliding glass door to the outside, the backyard as a giant window where I used a giant fur cloak that was a hand-sewn halloween costume that my mother made for me and I of course was warm underneath it as I accepted my fate, I loved being a little kitchen spider, sprawled under the coat. I couldn't necessarily feel safe opening up about my ocd to friends I had at the time, since I didn't feel entirely validated with the acception for one. I went through to be better than before, however. The december went onward, I tried to dye my hair red, failed, it turned magenta. it was cool, however, but I had to go back and dye it redder, and let me tell YOU I WAS FUCKING ROLLING AHND I WAS GROWING THY HAIR OUT AND DAMN I WAS FUCKI NG EUPHORIC GODFDAMIIIT I NEED TO GROW MY FUCKIKJGN HAIR OUT OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

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Northern Arizona countryside

We had a strange time settling in, my brother's only complaint was spiders, so much so he refused to sleep in his room, I explained to him what arachnophobia was and he treated it like a life-altering realization you only get out of extensive therapy, the kind of therapy that makes you unravel the repressed trauma you've endured from a relative who made you believe your whole anxiety disorder was a lie to absolve you being a "freak" when you- I'll talk about that to a therapist, actually. I wore the FUCK out of those flannels at this time because you KNOW I'm going to have the most gender euphoric joy about it. ESPECIALLY WITH BLUE HAIR TO MATCH ONE OF THEM. I almost considered a lumberjack job with these flannels up here in the countrytown. Maybe I still could consider- We got snow, Chrissy was walking around the home with an enate joy whilst Milo sat in terror. This house was lovely once filled and despite a former shit wifi service, I enjoyed my time still spending later hours in the night, being a restless fool... Well, time to go upstairs and to my new bed! Oh? I didn't think about that one anime character? You mean to tell me there's a chance I'll get abandoned? Oh? Want me to go up again? Again? Again? Again? Again? AGAIN?

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Such a shame, byebye old city, such a shame I got my doorknobs back for my old room just a short amount of time before we spent a whole year at my grannys and moved. All of that time in 2020 wondering when my mom would give me my doorknobs back for fuckin nothing.

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My father had to take a separate trip to place belonging up to the new house, and also got that collective of stuff outside the storage and up north again. However we still had to take two cars and each cat went in each car, Miss Chrissy had gone with my brother and mother, and of course Milo had gone with my dad and I. Now it was not easy, it was late in november, snd Milo wasn't going to go inside a carrier willingly, despite this being a crate for a small dog. He ran under the table and I picked him up and he accepted fate in the car, and then yelled for 2 seconds, gave up and took a nap in frustration the whole ride. It was also FUCKING LATE AS SHIT AT NIGHT, late. It was around 3:AM when we had gotten to the house, and for that two hour drive I was blasting a really unfiltered sapphic song in my ears, GOOOOOO LESBIANS!!!!!! LETS GO LESBIANS, CMON LESBUIANS>

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The Boots...

So, I will introduce a brand new character to this or rather, characters. So there's this one store called Charlotte Russe, and well, they mostly sell stuff for fem expressing people, for lack of a better term, but they had an intriguing set up of things, so arguably, I found pleasure in searching for cargo pants, warm pants, currently have these really tight pants to this day that are from this exact place, I had spotten many an intriguing sight, I wanted to take everything, unfortunately for this first trip to this place I had to pick up warm clothing and find myself some better footwear than weird gladiator sandles that literally fell apart back in 2022. I found these boots that I decided to obtain, one pair tan, one pair black leather. Well both were more like pleather (sounds like saying pleasure with a lisp- I feel like a weirdo for that) But these would be very useful, I arguably wanted to see if I could save up for docs but honestly maybe I shouldn't. If I remember correctly, I had fallen in love with these two flannel jackets, and to which were very gender, with this one turtle neck top that I later went back for. However, this was when I was surrounded by an online culture of essentially just seeing people paint on stuff and I thought that oil paints were of the highest power total sigma male shit or whatever the incel cis boys around my age say- nonetheless I wished to assert dominance as a former fem non-binary person with the most paint-able shoes. So I took a trip up to Michaels, now did I see Michael? Well, when I asked the otter up at the front with his oversized circular glasses he told me in a rather anticipatory manner and looked away from my impulsive eyecontact that I cannot control, he said "Michael hasn't been here in a long time." I think he was lying, but I saw his terror so I decided to ignore Michaels screaming under the floorboards. There's probably a reason. Picked up my oil paints, and then went on to pain on one of the pairs of boots, which of course I knew nothing about oil paints because everything I do creatively is just me thinking I should do something and knowing nothing about how to do something. However, I had an idea, and... I wouldn't finish these boots until we finally drove up to the country-side home. Finally I wouldn't be bemoaned by the horrors of grannys and nor would Milo and Miss Chrissy have to worry about the elderly cat there too. Oh I forgot to mention, my granny literally saw Chrissy run into the garage (It was closed) and instead of waiting for her to just walk back inside she turned the light off to get her to "come out faster" and then locked her in the garage??????? I don't even know why like I said she is out of her gourd sometimes.

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The fall meant that the colder climate's weathers were arriving, and we would be moving into this home soon, I repeat. SOON. So it had been seemingly my mission to traverse and find some warm pants, jackets, boots, even. Now at this time I had not worn pants in fucking forever, sensory issues were really bad unfortunately with the acception of when I was taking horse riding lessons, but turns out the gender euphoria had been unbeknownst to me until then, come to think of it. Having longer hair gave me more gender euphoria than with short hair... weird. So my dad and I go to this Dick's Sporting Goods and no, unfortunately, the name was misleading, no packers in sight. I will note, however, I saw something quite... alarming about this Dick's Sporting Goods. It was large, had two escalators leading to the upper floor however, I immediately took it as a rather threatening design, looking around the start of the escalators, I saw blue canoes, they were sideways, and hug to the sides of each escalator, like a decorum to the railing, but once I looked up, I saw a rather gigantic photo of Dwayne The Rock Johnson posted up there like a stadium screen. In all his glory. However, terror set in once I looked from afar more from the photo and noticed more blue canoes circling the depiction of The Rock amongst the escalators. It felt like I was violating an ancient shrine, like Dwyane The Rock Johnson's eyes would've started moving from the picture as my father and I traversed upwards to the second floor, the blue canoes radiating an almost unwelcome energy.

As depicted here.

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So things were still carrying onward, of course, I was picking up ink painting and it was FALL TIME and time for me to lust for coppery hair and wished I could dye my hair red, again... I missed that pink countertop real bad I guess. Now I was also during this time, GOING FUCKING BATSHIT IN LOVE WITH MXTX BECAUSE OHHHHHHHHHH MY GOD DO I LOVE ME SOME QUEER MEN IN ANCIENT CHINA DUDE THE PLOTS WERE HAVING ME REALIZE MY LOVE FOR THE ART OF WRITING DUDE I SHIT YOU NOT AND MODAO ZHUSHI WILL FOREVER HAVE A PLACE IN MY HEART I"LL FOREVER RESONATE HEAVILY WITH THE CHARACTERS. And my mother also told me that she had a nightmare where Pipeline Punch Monster Energy Drinks sent me into heart failure. Yes, it was that, fucking, bad. Fall will always be my favorite season, not in a Girl in Red way, more like a... Boy in Red...way?

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My brother found a love for truffle french fries in 2021

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Unfortunately, I think the right of passage of my life is to just accept the fact I will constantly be stuck in horrible decisions to choose from, such as:

My grandmother's house, a small home, only three bedrooms, one my father used (he snores too much that my mother cannot stand to sleep next to him) before he later could live inside the service/wifi forsaken home in the countryside to flourish and replenish a sense of humanity unlike his grubby handed children, whilst working for a pharmacy chain. The other room, was used by my mother, my brother having to sleep in that room because the second guest bed was just so small and my brother was afraid to sleep alone don't you DARE bully him (He won't technically see it but idk it wouldnt sit well on my conscious) And me? Well usually I'd share the master bed with my grandmother up until fated 2020 when I picked up the permanent curse of floor sleeping, you think I would be capable at that time of touching the second floor, even? Let alone a bed? Whilst the OCD brain termites had forsaken my bodily autonomy? I had free will, and permission to sleep on the floor.

But here's another problem, my grandmother's house doesn't particularly have a workspace friendly spot besides her own things, not many easy places to put my drawing tablet and pc without having to uncomfortably sit, so all I really had was the dining room's sewing table, I don't know why the sewing table was so desk-able and serving cunt with that tablecloth ontop of it, (during 2020 I got glitter stuck on it and then one tiny blot of ink.....whoops) BUT NOT ONLY THAT ITS RIGHT NEXT TO THE FUCKING KITCHEN, so I kinda had to settle for just not having a good place to be in Discord voice calls, for a 16yo chronically online during covid time that is a personal nightmare.

And let me tell you it would make me scratch my skin in anxiety and frustration when one day I had been on my pc and smelled the MOST DISGUSTING FUCKING STENCH OF A COUNTERTOP POLISH EVER HOLY SHIT I WENT INTO A SPIRAL OF ANXIETY, I DIDN"T KNOW WHAT TO DO, WHERE TO GO, THE BRAIN TERMITES FORBID ME THE STAIRS, FORBID ME TO SIT AMONGST THE CHAIRS AND COUCHES OF THE LIVING ROOM, HELL, EVEN THE FUCKING BACKYARD.

So I strong-armed through it, she was polishing her countertop for at least 30 minutes, not sure why it took 30 minutes, I arguably was already anxious to be there because she constantly would accuse me of scratching her stove when there wasn't anything noticeable on her stove, one time I placed a knife on there for 5 seconds to get something and the blade didnt even touch the stove and she started getting real mad and said "It's nothing like how it used to look" or something like that when THERE WAS BARELY ANY VISIBLE SCRATCHES ON THIS STOVETOP, I WAS SENT INTO A PANIC I COULDN"T EVNENNb FUCKOJGHN OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY GFOOOOOODDDD

Now, you know how I had dyed my hair a bit during this year? Well when I said I fully bleached my hair, I didn't mention the fact the lower layer of my full head of hair, was dyed red, now, remember the mention of my OCD preventing me from properly showering? Because the brain termites told me using the showers would result in terrible things happening to me? (I genuinely don't know how the fuck I didn't stink if I recall there were some moments I ended up sponge bathing in one of the bathrooms because there's no damn way, it was SUMMER in arizona.)

Well, that resulted in me not spending time to wash my hair, and if you ever dyed your hair (respectively, look at you, I highly doubt theres someone reading this who hasn't, I don't mind being proven wrong.) well, red hair, is messy, and the red dye SOMEHOW WAS TURNING MY SHIRT'S TAG PINK???????? AND WHENEVER I SCRATCFHED MY CRUSTY ASS SCALP, PINK WOULD BECOME MY FINGERTIPS, UNDERNEATH MY NAILS. AND I GUESS BY TOUCHING THE COUNTERTOP...THE FUCKING COUNTERTOP OR ANYTHING I FUCKING TOUCHED TURNED FUCKING PINK???????????????????????????

So you can imagine later in october, when I dyed it dark blue, I would probably run into this same problem, I wanted to wash it in the kitchen sink, since my family often uses sinks to wash hair because WE ARE FREAKS I DONT CARE WHAT IM TOLD I GET IT ITS WEIRD. But I wanted to wait until i could have assistance for it, I believe it was because I didn't know what shampoo to use, and alot of the times I just, crusty teen shit I sucked at washing my own hair.

But my grandmother randomly started thinking I was going to shower, however, I didn't say I was going to shower, now maybe its because I was afraid to use the shower, but even then I was still sponge-bathing to at least keep some form of hygiene, but I had a feeling it was more because of my hair because she didn't give a shit if I was in public spaces, and for her, the person who will openly tell you if she thinks you look too uggo for idk.. a walmart? And I previously was obviously discussing the hair dye transfer problem, so I had decided beforehand to just, wash my hair in the sink, like weird family tradition.

Now this was I believe the day after I dyed it blue, I had to leave the house, and we were supposed to leave the house soon. But suddenly she tells me she would not take me to the store unless my hair was washed, so I was a little anxious, because the brain termites were telling me showers were bad, but I felt like explaining it would make me get laughed at, despite how real those intrusive thoughts feel to someone with OCD, and I didn't predict us being stuck at this house for well... the entire year. It was normal for us to wash hair in the kitchen sink, it's metal, it's been done for years, but she didn't want to wait until I had help with washing my hair in said sink so that was arguably not fun. Thank fuck I'm medicated??????? idk

At least nothing in her house turned blue.

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So, nothing is going to be perfectly in chronological order, however I will continue the downward spiral of what it was like staying at this home for what would be mostly the entire year, as mentioned before. it was at least august when my father was able to enter the home's confines, was I going to check it out and spend a day because I couldn't bear staying at granny's? Well yes. We drove up to the mountains and there was GREEN FUCKIJNG GRASS OH MY GOD THE FOG THE HAZE, THE DAMN FUCKING TREES HOLY SHIT. Now I don't know for sure if I'm the only one who's felt this way, but when I see a location in wherever part of the world, for the first time, I tend to see it in a blur, totally not because I have astigmatism. But I only within the year afterwards really memorized anything, but my do I miss the sight of such greenery, especially WHEN LIVING IN A FUCKING DESERT CLIMATE FOR FUCKIONG MOST OF YOUR LIFE UP UNTIL THE AGE OF 16 WHEN I UNIRONICALLY HAD BLUE FUCKING HAIR AND THEY/HE PRONOUNS. Now when I saw this house for the first time and got to reside in it for the first time, I was still blonde so technically I'm complainng thats literally it, BUT I will note that when I rewatch the old videos I filmed of traversing this bizarre place, I look at my damn... pipeline...... punch..... in my hand. My little heart beating like a tiny animal being spotted by a bird of prey. Of course there was no wifi, not just that, barely functioning service, it's hand and hand, but it felt horrible when I gradually couldnt use my phone or pc when I'd spend more time to this home to get used to it, I was stuck, sitting amongst the most buttery smooth mattress, staring off into space, I tried to text people on discord... The messages weren't sending, for my service, was gone, and it was the entire day to my chronically online dismay. And of course as I was driving the way back, trying to blast the same anime op theme until my headphones of 4 years would finally roll over and cough, I finally got a signal and saw several messages wondering where I had gone, and then I went back to my dreaded granny's as the fucking BRAIN TERMITES PROGRESSED

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...Monster Energy...

God, listen, I've never had a good track record when it came to putting things in my mouth, when I was 5 I ate candles, and in 2019-2020 I was dipping stale sourdough into cesar dressing, to drinking caramel syrup in a full mug, eating cat's wetfood and though garlic powder would flavor it... This year, of 2021, I was consuming horrors. I was intrigued by the idea of french toast, one day. However, I wanted to make a loaded french toast, a large one, if you will. I got out four slices of bread, got a whole bowl of egg wash, put each slice in the egg, and stuck them together, to make it a larger, more powerful, french toast. However I did not have the foresight as I did after I cooked it, for I put it against my plate, couldn't find syrup, but that was okay, I looked at some vanilla extract, and some cinnamon seasoning, cinnamon it was, but what about vanilla extract? Smelled wonderful, I thought, would taste intriguing. However, even then when i took a bite of the toast, I had realized the egg in each slice was not cooked, I had been eating wet, raw egg. I tried to still eat it anyways, even tried to compensate with the vanilla extract but soon realized it just tasted alcoholy but I instead decided to drink the vanilla extract, yum. I needed to wash down this awful toast, I took a drink of the milk, in the fridge, but it was awful, and sour, because it was unfortunately expired. I was still hungry, my grandmother offered to take me to The Bread Bank, I was thrilled for it, however I noticed a wave of nausea but believed I could stomach it despite being on the verge of divulging it. We went to The Bread Bank, back home, to which I ate the take out, and to my surprise, the nausea had left, for I was somehow able to keep down the raw eggs, expired milk, and vanilla extract. But burnt potstickers was too much for my stomach lining????????????? But, at the end of the day, I washed it down with the 5th Pipeline Punch of that day. And the next days to come I was playing Phasmophobia religiously. Whilst listening to Thot Shit by Megan Thee Stallion on loop in a Discord Voice Chat Still. Drinking. The DAMN. PIPELINE> PUNCh

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oh jesus christ

So, my parents were packing for at least a month, and officially left the old home withing july, so we were staying amongst the horrors of my granny's home whilst my orange cat Milo was starting to despise my granny's senior cat Miss Sugar. (same age as me and was a kitten when I was a toddler)

And ofc Miss Chrissy, (she later got bone cancer and had to get amputated in jan of 2024) However, this would work out with the cats begrudgingly dealing with two elderly ladies, whilst my parents were keeping the moving items in a storage garage, somewhere......

Granny did not understand thy brain termites, thy boundaries were hard to stick into her frontal cortex from the 40s however I stood firm, but. Regardless of that I'm a teen with a newfound discovery of cooking things, that being literally a shitload of pastas, french fry medly, tried a matcha cake and immediately regretted that, LOVED POTSTICKERS....however I cooked them improperly quite a bit and my stomach never agreed with my poor decisions. Chili oil was godly, spicy shin ramen, was something I lusted for biblically so much so I could make Hozier lyrics for it....until I ate it before laying down and threw up. And then........ Pipeline punch..........monster. Unfortunately replaced my consumption of water. No, I am serious. (I'll dedicate a damn chapter to that later.) but I was cooking, for fucking once, because holy shit now that my palate extended I've realized frozen lasagnas are just nostalgic but not filling anymore... The Bread Bank still stood, nothing can replace it and it's lovely menu. It was horrible, however as they searched for houses, it seems almost impossible for them to find one, this went on for at least the whole year up until September to October when they finally had spotted this one home, out in a small, very very small town up in northern Arizona, no, I will not name it, I will dox myself. It was big, had horse property, formerly a vacation house for an old couple who took a liking to my father and mother, and therefore, it was finalized.

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Grandmas house.......

OHHHHHHHHHH MY GOOOOOODODDDDDDDDDDD

For context; Back in 2020, we had spent the holidays amongst the walls of the house owned by my grandmother, now this was during the OCD spiral, and now I'm not talking about washing hands more than 7 times, nuh uh, I'm talking about a terror of the color red, cannot touch the upstairs or else your loved ones will die or leave you. Do NOT touch the weird lumps in granny's weird carpet or else your friends will leave you and abandon you for not typing in all caps when responding to their fursona ref sheet or else you are a terrible person. CANNOT PUT ON CLOTHES BECAUSE ITS SO HARD TO DO THAT WITHOUT REPEATING THE SAME ACTION BECAUSE THE BRAIN TERMITES SAID SO. OHHHHHH YOU CANT SHOWER WITHOUT INTENSE ANXIETY OHHHHH NOOOO OHHHHH YOU CAN"T SLEEEEP AT NIGHT AND CANT SLEEP IN A BED SO YOU AHVE TO SLEEP ON THE FLOORS OHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOO

So for most of this spiral I was using blankets as robes and painting all night nocturnally. Also ate peanuts and started having an itchy throat and swollen lips and the only thing that prevented me from worse was me throwing up said peanuts. But, this spiral made it hard for me to really like being here, especially in a healthy state of mind because my granny is usually out of her gourd if in a bad mood, such as, her oven door having a feature where it can come off, and discovering this whilst yelling at a 13yo grandson accusing him of ruining the oven whilst showing me at 13 her 20yo receipt for said oven to tell me how much it costed. But, there was no other option, and i had just descovered my gender, bleached my whole head, got a wolfcut, thought it would save my life, discovered anime (to a detriment) but hey! I'll get over it, sure the cats might all hate eachother but by July? We'll be moved in, my brain termites won't let me shower here, but i'll figure something out, I got a love for boba, and The Bread Bank.......