The most amusing thing that I've experienced in the last two days is listening to kicking the asses of appraisers. Not literally, just over the phone. Not that I can't do that, but I have a gazillion and one other things to do, and it helps so much to have someone else make the stupid eight-times-daily harassment calls, because, apparently (and especially in Southern California) people must be coerced to do their jobs.

Besides, it's way more fun listening to someone else.

Despite having help, I was at work til eight tonight, but that was mostly by choice, and partly because I'm covering P's pipeline while he's sunning himself in Hawaii. At the end of the evening, I was pleased to discover that my office does, in fact, have a floor.

I'm out of the blah mood I was in all weekend, as witnessed by a way-too-caffeinated me being disgustingly perky on Monday. Yes, it was obnoxious. However, I must point out that I never do sustained perkiness.

In the absence of a new episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer tonight, we watched part of disc five from season three. I'd forgotten how much I'd liked that season. However, watching those dvd's has forced Fuzzy to inform me that we haven't yet watched all of season one of Babylon 5 (sorry, Fuzz, I just don't like season one) and that season two will be out in two months.

Whatever. I bought a new Palm, and a new laptop and am buying a new computer, and I go to the salon every other week. I guess it's fair for him to get a boxed set of something once in a while.

I've been really tired lately, and have been having weird sleep patterns where I wake up at 5:46 every morning. But then I go back to sleep.

I have two upcoming trips: Mexico and Florida, both in Feb. Fuzzy may not come to Mexico, with me, however. The Florida trip is for his work, though, and it'd be me tagging along just because I've never been to Boca Raton before.

Also, our eighth anniversary is in March, and I'm trying to plan a weekend getaway. It's not a surprise, so this isn't locked, but suggestions are welcome. Must be within half a day's drive, or a cheap flight, from Northern Californa.

Sorry this is such a dull update. My brain is on vacation, I think.

So I've gone from blah to enh in moodiness, which, actually is an improvement.

My shoulders are killing me though, which is weird. We must've swapped the pillows around or something.

And I cannot shake this headache, still.

I'm planning to eat something and then go to bed early in the hopes that I can shake enough of this crabby cranky nesting mood so that I don't bite people's heads off at work on Monday.

And may I just add that weekends are too short?

Still in nesting mode.
Blowing off Stars on Ice – head hurts too much to enjoy it.
That is all.

I was awakened this morning, not by our alarm, which had been set for nine am on Friday, because neither of us had wanted to leave bed at eight, but by my aunt calling from Connecticut. To be fair, most people are (or should be) out of bed at ten AM, even on Saturday, but most people don’t routinely stay up til two or three, either.
And at that point I would have gotten up /anyway/ because I had to use the bathroom.
But anyway, she called, and apparently will be here next weekend. And I’m torn, because I’d love to take next Monday off, but she has a history of being unfashionably late/cancelling at the last second/just not showing up. When my grandmother was still alive, she’d send Patti (who is the youngest and therefore the favorite) plane tickets to visit her, and then Patti would cancel at the last minute and later use the tickets for something else.
For five years my grandmother lived with my parents, who took care of her, hired a nurse to spend the day with her when they had to work, and Patti, who happened to call one time when she was alone for five minutes had the nerve to chastise my parents for not being the 24/7 entertainment committe. When asked if she’d like to take my grandmother in, my has-a-PhD-from-Stanford-and-had-her-first-teaching-job-at-Yale-but-had-to-quit-because-otherwise-she’d-have-been-fired-for-not-publishing aunt, who now makes ends meet by teaching part time at Wesleyan and editing papers for the chair of the Yale English department, and lives in an apartment that doesn’t have a bathroom, because she “just isn’t cut out for real work, the way you and your mother are, Zoetrope,” said she was too busy.
So, I probably won’t take time off, and if she really does deign to drive the twenty minutes from the overpriced decorated-by-folks-who-have-all-their-taste-in-their-mouths house of her friends Joan and Marty in Palo Alto, she’ll have to fit her visit into my schedule.
Because, you know, I love the woman, and she’s my godmother (failed at that, didn’t she?) and stuff, but her selfishness pisses me off.
On the other hand, sometimes she can be funny. Like when her ex-husband (who is a tanner buffer version of Chris Reeve in his Superman days, and whom I really miss) cheated on her with some 18-year-old (whom he later married), she called the chick’s mother on the phone and said, “Do you know that your daughter is fucking my husband?”
But those cool moments are few, and far between.
Continue reading →

I'm in a blah mood today – but I think it's the light. I've done my minimum One Productive Thing (cleaned the kitchen) but it's after two and I'm still wandering around the house in sweats. Not Good.

I hate it when the sky is all murky, the way it was until about an hour ago, because I feel like the world hasn't quite awakened yet, and it makes my eyes all wiggy.

Although, when such skies are accompanied by wind and rain and thunder and lightning, my whole perception changes and I revel in the raw power of nature.

So maybe it's just that I don't like indecisive weather.

Whatever. I'm babbling again, which means I really need to have someone lock up my keyboard.

Okay, so after more than three months of gyrations, conversations, demonstrations and expectations, we have our T1 installed, which means no more shared dial-up connection, and far less cursing.

(It also means that certain MUSH characters who have been kinda scarce will be less so, but we won't talk about that.)

Fuzzy's still having issues getting the wireless hub to work, so I can't net from bed yet. I guess that's the weekend project.

Still, it's good to have decent access again. Next up: A new computer.

Please be advised that “I'm sorry,” is not always synonymous with “I apologize.”

Sometimes it means, “I sympathize.”

That is all.

I'm having one of those days where I'm on the edge of tears for absolutely no reason other than messed up chemistry, or something, and I keep having this urge to go find a rock to crawl under.

And I'm annoyed with myself, because, with the exception of really weird light outside my office window this afternoon, and friend I feel disconnected from and really miss, there's nothing specific wrong.

I hate moods like this.
I hate not being able to break out of moods like this.
I hate that even chocolate does nothing for me when I'm stuck in such a mood.

*sigh*
Pity-party's over now.
Sorry.

We went to Cost Plus tonight, ostensibly because I needed to add something to the Christmas gift I haven't yet sent to my friend Jen in Colorado.

(Actually, I haven't sent her last year's gift either, but that's because I ran out of time and had FTD deliver something instead.)

You know you are a True Shopaholic when, even though you have a perfectly good unsent gift (it's bath stuff in freesia, her favorite), you feel obligated to go buy something else.

The problem is that Cost Plus, which is a dangerous store any time of year, is doubly dangerous in the first week of January. Example: all the glass Christmas ornaments are on sale. I collect glass Christmas ornaments.

You know you are a True Shopaholic when you buy ten new glass ornaments (I especailly like the Zeppelin and the Typewriter) despite the fact that you didn't put a tree up this year, and may be travelling next year as well. But they were half price, and therefore you were obligated to buy them.

We won't discuss the martini set (a glass shaker/pitcher and four glasses for $20) that I passed up despite the fact that I really need martini glasses, because I don't own any.

But we will feel as though I redeemed myself by waiting until after dinner to buy groceries (because when you go while hungry, really odd things end up in the cart), although now I'm all giddy because not only is Claritin finally available in Safeway, over the counter, it's also available in it's GENERIC FORM, which is about half as expensive.

You know you're a True Shopaholic when you get giddy over sales at the grocery store, and use said specials to justify buying a fluffy magazine, just because. (It's Marie Claire, if you must know).

We'll conveniently overlook the nifty glass bottles full of Aveda products that somehow managed to come home with me yesterday, because everyone knows that since they don't put price tags on the bottles they don't count, and even if they did have price tags they still wouldn't count because health and beauty aids are only purchased a few times a year, and are, like clothing, necessities.

You know you are a True Shopaholic when you can rationalize any purchase.

Those little mini-gifty things that Barnes and Noble and Borders are both pushing are dangerously addictive.

Oh, admit it. You know the ones I mean: The little 2×2 boxes that contain mini-spa kits, or desktop fountain kits, or Zen garden kits or, or, or….

I just wish they'd stop putting the pricetags on the back, where the descriptions are.