Although I preach process not a product, progress, not perfection - I am convinced if something doesn't look or sound perfect out of the gate then I, or it, is hopeless.
Last night I tried making a toilet cleaning bomb - an easy recipe from Pinterest (yikes) which I should have known might not work. I was so disappointed when the concoction turned into a type of growing ooze that eventually hardened into something similar to concrete ... I should have taken a photo. For reference, here is the failed recipe.
I was about to throw everything out, and then I realized - I should just give it another try. If at first, you don't succeed, and all that.
In other news, my dad is on a date tonight. He has invited a lady he met on a dating website for "old people," as he describes it. He's spent a few weeks feeling guilty, ashamed, ambivalent for inviting any woman into his life, but he affirms that "he's just not a person that does well alone." He wondered out loud if I would be okay with this - and probably had too much to drink and doesn't remember that I said I was okay with it even though I'm really not ready to see my dad with another woman.
Even if she's just a friend or companion, or whatever. Part of me wants Delilah not to like her because that means more to him than if I like her. What a petulant child I am, angry and confused. I want my dad to have friends, and not to be so sad, but I don't want her in my mother's house, looking at her things, petting her cats and dog. So selfish, I am.
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