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I win
17/30 November 15, 2007
The beard is gone! When I tiptoed into the bedroom and gave him his goodbye peck this morning, I noticed the smooth cheek and my heart rejoiced. I knew he�d get itchy and give it up.
I talked to him about it when he called me this afternoon.
He said it was making him look like he had a bad case of derelictitis.
When Spouse gave me his customary afternoon jingle yesterday, he was dropping big heavy hints that he would really like to have me make him dinner. Which�during the week, I don�t really do. He�s responsible for feeding himself. But I chose to be kind, and made a regular old run-of-the-mill dinner, and left him a plate to re-heat. Ground sirloin steak, beef-flavored rice mix, and green beans.
It wasn�t what I�d planned on making myself for dinner, but I really didn�t want to stop at the store, so it had to be something I could make with what I had on hand, that was thawed, and that he would eat. It wasn�t spectacular, but it was okay. And when he called later to ask if I had made anything, he seemed pretty happy with my answer.
I had planned on making myself a casserole, but he doesn�t eat casseroles. And he certainly doesn�t eat casseroles that contain broccoli, which this one would have.
The weather is taking a downturn, and I think it affected both the dog and me with the blahs last night. Neither one of us was very perky. He dozed on the bed, and after making dinner and cleaning up the dishes and the kitchen, I was kind of at loose ends.
I did my usual routine to set up for the morning, puttered around on the computer, sent the hotel confirmation emails to my family, and generally vegged. I just couldn�t get focused on anything. I think all the running around and phone calls of the previous evening made me crave a little peace.
Not to mention all the ever-escalating expectations and assorted bullshit inflicted upon me by my boss, She Who Can�t Say No To Anyone But Me*. (SWCSNTABM). Consequently, I�m kind of a zombie, once I fight my way through the day, and fight my way home through the afternoon rush.
Normally, I�d drag my feet a bit with this latest bit o� hell she�s sending my way, but it�s review time, so I have to be on my Sunday School behavior.
*Massively insecure, her paranoia over people not finding her valuable leads her to be a control freak that wants a hand in every single thing going on at any given time, in our part of the company. And any other part of the company that will let her stick her beak in. But when I venture to indicate that I may be the teeniest bit overburdened as a result? My request to be spared is met with a NO! that can give you whiplash.
FUBAR, HMJ , SOL, SOS, Etc. But if I continue to dwell on the soul-destroying nature of that bureaucratic nightmare I�m trapped in, I�ll just end up like my brother.
Reading: �The Rottweiler�, by Ruth Rendell.
Beading: Not at the moment.
Listening: Lileks--Bleat Radio Theater. Vincent Price as The Saint, Sheldon Leonard as mouthy heavy.
At Random: click here
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