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my life lately
March 28, 2008
Spouse has a bad knee. I mean, on top of the long-standing bad knee problem (arthritis), he has a sprained knee as well. I forced him to go to the doctor, and that was the diagnosis. I don�t particularly like or trust his doctor, but then, it isn�t my knee. Instructions include Ice/heat, OTC pain relievers in moderation, topical liniments, and �taking it easy�.
In other words, �Ain�t a thing we can do �bout it--deal with it yourself and by the way
here�s our big fat bill�.
I was ready to do a work rant-slash-boss rant, but frankly, that would take more energy than I have or would want to spend. But I will say this:
the walking garbage dump in the next cube over has all the characteristics of a tire fire, save the warmth.
I could do a snow rant, since the shit just will NOT STOP. We got another couple of inches yesterday and last night. It�s soul-crushing, and if I don�t see a crocus or a robin in the next seven days, I�m gonna snap.
As it is, I am slowly sinking into a mire of sludgy, fuzzy, drowsy, semi-death, and it�s making me feel like a zombie. I had another bout of Wednesday night unconsciousness this week, which scared me. But fortunately, it wasn�t a recurrence of the sleeping sickness, just good old fashioned pooped-ness. I�d had a very rough day. And even today, I felt compelled to take a nap. I limited myself to two hours, but ended up making coffee to jolt my system awake. And I know the weather has so much to do with it. My body and soul are ready for spring, but spring doesn�t come--and I shut down.
Well, not voluntarily. I�ve been trying to keep myself perked up the best I can. I�m continuing work on the nail maintenance project--I�m currently sporting �Slinki Pinki� pink nails--and after I realized that the last time I�d purchased any makeup other than nail lacquer was in 2002 (lipstick for a wedding I was IN), and that most everything in my bag was old enough to be in high school, I broke down and bought some new. I got some of that mineral powder foundation. Haven�t tried it yet. I got new mascara, eyeliner, and a couple of lipsticks (a fuchsia and a coral). No need for eyeshadow, though. Mother Nature and Father Time have thoughtfully provided that detail themselves. Until I find an industrial-strength concealer that can neutralize these shadows and bags, I honestly look better going natural for that.
This new stuff may die of old age too, though--I put the tiniest bit of cosmetics on my face Tuesday, and took flack from every single person I came in contact with in that office for the entire day. Geez. The fucking Red Sea didn�t part, people! I just felt sick of looking in the mirror and seeing my dead grandma looking back. Well, tellwittem. Tellwittalluvem. I�ll save my �face� for the weekends.
My mom�s birthday is Monday. And I feel guilty. I sent her a card, but I�m not going down there this weekend, and I didn�t get her a gift. Just sent her a card that said I got all my bad habits from Dad�s side of the family. She�ll like that.
I usually do get her something for her birthday, but I have big plans for the Mother�s Day gift this year, so the two are getting conflated. Brand new sewing machines are not something you have to take out a bank loan for, but they aren�t exactly free, either. The one I�m probably going to get her will run about $200 when all is said and done. I want to make sure it has a case, so if one doesn�t come with, that will be another $20-$30.
She�s going to think it�s extravagant, but I have my argument all worked out. �I work hard, I make fair money, I don�t have kids, and I get to spend my money any way that makes me happy. This makes me happy. End of story.�
She�ll still manage to make me feel guilty for spending money on her. She has a gift for that. But oh, well.
I have been trying for the last year to get my brothers to go in on it with me, but was met with resounding disinterest. Sadly, even though they didn�t want to play, they�ll probably be pissed that I gave her something major (I�ve been there before) but they are big boys and I�m sure they�ll manage to cope.
Reading: "A Short History of a Small Place" (1985), by T.R. Pearson. It�s kind of hard to stay focused; the style is very jabbery and word-dense. And the sequel is famed for having an opening sentence that is 407 words long. Why did I think this writer was a good idea?
Surfing:Steve, Don�t Eat It. Not for the faint of heart�
Listening: Various Quincy Jones pieces. Everything from �Soul Bossa Nova� to �Ai No Corrida�
At Random: click here
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