Happy New Year?

So, Trump is President. My weight is pretty up there right now. I’ve been working weekends on a project that launches in 14 days, 22 hours. (I have a countdown clock on my desktop.) I’m feeling exhausted, beat down, discouraged. I’m hoping once this project is over, I can get back to caring about eating right, exercising, taking action against the current regime besides just reposting articles on Facebook, etc. But right now, I just want to bury my head in work and TV.

I wouldn’t even be posting this depressing update, but once I notice that I haven’t posted in almost a year, it’s like a compulsion to keep it from actually being a year. Here, have a fluffy kitty pic, maybe that’ll help.

It’s the bunny weekend, but more important, it’s the weekend of the return of The Doctor!

My weekends have been very full, and it’s starting to make me anxious. Freelance work, car repairs (new brakes! new axle! woo!), birthdays, and Woo!Doctor!Who! are filling up all my time, so there’s hardly a minute to slack off anymore. I fantasize about painting, but don’t actually do any (even skipped an already-paid-for Wine and Canvas last night, boo!). Next weekend I have to have to have!to! get my taxes ready for my accountant. I still have to schedule the cleaners to come and sanitize my apartment before cutiehead nephew arrives (three!weeks!). And get my tires fixed. And other stuff. In fact, right this very second I’m procrastinating on working on the slideshows for my client by writing this very blog post. I really need to get started ’cause I have the twins’ birthday bowling party this afternoon. And have I mentioned the stack of dirty dishes in the sink, even though the dishwasher is totally empty and prepared to receive said dishes?

Apparently I was in the mood for a stream of consciousness kind of brain dump. Sorry about that. In “at least this is amusing” news, the password at the coffee shop I was hanging out in yesterday while my brakes were replaced was “surfyourballsoff”. I need a more amusing password for my wireless.

Oh, and happy Easter to them’s that celebrate it.

Another new theme! Oops?

So yes, a new theme, because I am an idiot and overwrote my old theme’s customized index file, thinking I was in a completely different window for a completely different site. And I don’t have a backup.

Let this be a lesson to y’all! Backup your files!

Now I am thinking bad thoughts about a certain plumber, who is late. I cannot get lunch until he gets here, dammit. Hungry!

Dream a little dream

You know those dreams that make you want to stay in bed forever, fighting to convince yourself you’re still asleep and the dream is still going on? Yeah, had one of those this morning. It was deliciously awesome and waking up was not fun. But even worse is being wide awake, dressed, caffeinated, and knowing in my soul it was just a dream and would never be a reality. The higher you fly, the bigger the mess when you crash back to earth. Boo, hiss.

Still, I’m guessing I’ll be revisiting that Christmassy paradise more than once for awhile.

Knock knock at 10pm is NEVER GOOD

I don’t know why I rush home after work, considering how insanely bored I get when I’m sitting on my couch. I finished all the eps of “Lost Girl” and now I’m stuck watching week to week like everyone else, and at the moment nothing else on Netflix is the least bit tempting. I feel stalled in my painting. None of my books are calling out to me, and I can’t knit right now ’cause it bothers my shoulder. Which is to say, by the time dinner has been ingested, I’m wondering if it’s too early to go to bed–at 7:30pm.

So tonight I decided I’d take a bath and maybe read a chapter of my book on basic pool techniques. I really want to be a bath person, ’cause it sounds so relaxing, but as I proved yet again, I’m totally not. I get overheated and yes, bored to tears, within minutes of getting into a hot bath. This time I lasted less than ten minutes before giving up, but at least I did feel a little more relaxed.

Relaxed, that is, until the building manager came knocking on my door at 10pm. ?! Turns out the rush of draining water from my first-ever bath in this apartment was too much for the pipes to handle, and all that soapy, me-marinated water soaked through to the building foyer below.

Ugh.

So there I am, in my Happy Bunny pajamas, surrounded by the dry goods from my last grocery trip that I was too lazy to put away, having to let the hottie building manager into my end-of-the-week-slovenly-and-disgusting apartment to check out the totally innocent-looking, still-blue-stained-from-my-last-hair-dye-session bathtub.

Fuck my life, yo. And fuck Valentine’s Day too.

Anyway, he’s gone now, the dry goods are put away, the dirty clothes are in the hamper, and the rest of the cleaning can wait until morning, hopefully before the plumbers arrive. At least I’m not bored anymore.