Last week during the MTV Music Video awards, I was watching and Francisco was sitting next to me, reading an article on the web. We had the following exchange:
Me: Good lord, that dress is hideous!
Me: Uck, Fred Durst should die in a fiery accident.
Me: That "playful banter" is so painful.
Me: [noticing Francisco not listening] I need a notebook.
Francisco: [after laughing for awhile] You should get one of those digital recorders. Or some walkie-talkies. Or WAIT! You should buy just One walkie-talkie!
Me: khrr! "Cristina Aguilera seems to have lost a few pounds. Over."
Since then whenever one isn't listening to the other, the one who's talking will add "over" to the end of their statements, and it's bringing more entertainment to our lives than you might think. We are Way too easily entertained.
If there were an Olympic event in underlying self-pity, I would be on track to win the Gold the last couple of days. I don't know why it is, exactly, but I have So hated being at work yesterday and today, and to a lesser extent the entire week. If I stand back and look at the job objectively, it's really not that bad. So why do I hate it so much right now? Why do I want to fall to the floor and have a little tantrum about being here? Why can't I just be glad I have a job, and one that is sometimes paying me money to update my diary and chat with the AtomicFriends? It's ridiculous, this self-pity. Poor me, having to talk to people on the phone. Waaa. Feel sorry for me, because I have to deal with a lot of annoyances during the day. Pfft. Hit me in the head with a brick is more like it. I am foolish and need to stop being such a big baby. Resolved.
I think part of my unwillingness to be here is related to wanting to be home, working on things such as going through the stuff that's in a mess (not everything in the house--just select things. Like the towels and sheets, for instance), figuring out what to give to Goodwill, and organizing the rest. I know it's not Fall here yet (won't be, weather-wise for another couple months or so) but I would like it to be, and I feel like getting ready for it. It's getting the tiniest bit cooler here lately (supposed to be only 80 degrees tomorrow! heaven!) and already I'm looking forward to sweaters. And split pea soup. And dark evenings with candles. Which is silly, because I remember hating last winter passionately, because it was quite cold and we had too many ice storms, but I guess I'm bored with hot right now and want a change. Buh-ring it, please.
You know what I think I'll do this weekend? I think I'll finally go to the laundromat like I've needed to do for at least two months. Our white chenille coverlet has needed washing for a really long time and has been sitting on top of the dryer, waiting to be taken to the laundromat (too big to fit in our washer). I hate going there so I usually wait and then take everything big all at once. It's more misery to do all those things, but it's concentrated misery, not spread out over several trips. Which is my preference. Man do I hate the laundromat. So much that I want to get the largest possible washer and dryer, when we move (assuming we can sell our washer and dryer with the house), to eliminate the necessity of going there ever again. I'm really quite the whiner today, aren't I? I'm going to stop now and rip into my work like Mike Tyson ripping into somebody's ear.
Oh please, it was begging to be said. Have a great weekend.
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