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Along with snow and poor frozen, confused birds, there is grumpiness in the air. Must fight the grumpiness! With love and lists and some damn coffee.

Three things that are ok:

  • I taught Noah how to play Sims this weekend. The kid created some awesome rooms and now I have a new little Sims buddy.
  • My mom, Dan and I took Noah to see Horton Hears A Who on Sunday. Oh good lord the cuteness! The blinding, overwhelming cuteness! This movie was good enough to make everything else in the world tolerable and now I want my own Bunny Vlad to make me cookies.
  • I spent part of the weekend sorting my books into categories (fiction, non-fiction, travel essays, personal essays/autobiographies, travel guides, poetry, short story collections) and started packing them. I’m already up to ten very heavy boxes. I’ve been meaning to organize my library since we moved into this house a year ago, and it’s finally done! But I think when I unpack my books I’ll rearrange them by color. (Thanks Dawn!!!)

Thank you to Dooce for that very astute turn of phrase that oh so accurately sums up not only my weekend but my current mood. I am so ready to toss up my hands, state “Ok, I get it, this is NOT a democracy, the people [ie: me] do not have a voice in this matter.” and move back in with my parents until this whole house fiasco is done. Enough is e-fucking-nough.

I once again have no functioning shower, there is talk of re-building the GARAGE, and I’m being encouraged to pack up my stuff and store it in a house that’s an hour away, although there is absolutely no talk of a possible date in which we might move and I might get my stuff back. Any sense of home that I ever got from my house is being chipped away. I feel like I’m trying to fend off a tsunami with a hand towel.

Rounding out my bad mood is the snow, and the extreme cold that has chilled my bones, and my current blinding, brain-crushing headache that’s making work very difficult.

I stink. I feel completely powerless in a situation where there is NO REASON for me not to have some say. I’m tired. I’m angry.

I am keeping. My. Shit. Together. Barely.  

What did people do before Google? Well, before search engines and the internet in general? How did they find information? I suppose if they had a specific topic in mind (such as stalactites or elephants or radiation) they could look in an encyclopedia, but what if the topic wasn’t that specific? What if the info they were looking for was a reference of some type?

In the past couple days I’ve come across the phrase “[person] has the password to your shell account” twice, both times used rather snarkily, so I assumed they were referencing a quote or something. I Googled it (any excuse to Google!) and found that it references the song “I Have the Password to your Shell Account” by the band Barcelona. Well. There you go.

Although I may have been able to find this info eventually without Google and the Internet, I can’t imagine how. And it would have taken much longer (I found out about the band in a minute or so, if that long…) and I just don’t have the attention span for that. So. What did people do pre-Internet? I can’t even imagine…

  • He can do an amazing English accent. One of his favorite movies is the Parent Trap (the most recent version starring a young Lindsey Lohan). One of the twins has an English accent in the movie, and not only has Noah memorized all of her lines, but he does them with a much better accent than Lindsey did…
  • He’s a health food freak. He loves his fruits and veggies! When we eat out and he orders something from the kid’s menu, he always chooses the most healthy side option (veggies or apple sauce) and specifies white milk.
  • He suddenly learned how to read, over night, and now he’s a hardcore reader. He can read anything and it blows my mind. He loves to read!
  • He’s a sporty, active, crazy, typical little boy, but he has this incredibly sensitive, artistic side that’s just as big as his sporty side. He LOVES crafts. He loves to draw and create and make gifts for other people.
  • On the mornings that I’ve woken him up before he woke up on his own, he will wake up babbling about whatever dream he was having as if it were still happening. This has led to many a confusing morning on my part, but he’s never seen anything odd about this.
  • He shares my obsession and attention span with movies. He will take his favorite movie, and rewind and fast forward to watch his favorite scenes over and over.  Noah has mad skills when it comes to the remote control.
  • He’s nearing eight, but he still likes to cuddle when he’s tired.
  • He’s suddenly turned into such a smart ass! Hard core! He’s a sixteen-year-old! When he was younger he, as normal kids do, would cry or whine when he was upset. Now he retorts with well thought out, smart-assed, teenage remarks. Outwardly I am “upset” by this, but inwardly I’m so dang proud!

Listen to your pets. (insert the “the more you know…” dinging) 

Ha! Good stuff. Check it out!

This reminds me of the time we thought Banjo was crazy for staring at the basement door for hours on end. Turns out there was a squirrel down there. Good kitty! Silly us…

Someone forgot to turn on the lights here at work and I’m in heaven! Dark, floaty, natural light only, getting a tan by the light of my monitor heaven. It’s making for a very relaxing, zen morning and if anyone dares to flip that damn light-switch I’m totally going Neil Sedaka on their arse.

Dude, how much fun is this? Thank you, Myty!

Yup, that’s right. Neil Sedaka! Recognize!

But what about the boys?

I feel tinny. My head feels like it’s full of tinfoil, I feel like I’m chewing on tinfoil, my skin feels like it’s been replaced with tinfoil (see a pattern?). Everything seems so bright and sharp and I feel like I’m being stabbed in the jaw and the stomach by those scary little fairies in The Bridge to Terabethia (You know, the fuzzy ones that can mess with your head and make you think time isn’t passing. Damn fairies.). And I feel like those same damn fairies (I really don’t like fairies) spent all night doing cannonballs onto my boobs. Plus my concentration’s shot to…hey, a fairy! Must find my flyswatter; you go squish now.

I’ve been feeling this way for the past week and I’ve had enough. There’s no reason for it so it’s like being hung over without having drank anything the night before (is there anything worse than that?). 

On a brighter note, I really like the word bookmarklet. Thank you for that, WordPress.

ps: No fairies were harmed in the writing of this entry. Lucky bastards.

I finally got around to putting something on my About Page. Now you can find out all sorts of info about me that you already knew.

Monday through Friday

6:45-7:05 – Somewhere in here I’ll usually roll out of bed and realize I’m going to be late for work. Again. I toss on clothes that have been laying in a wrinkled heap on dresser all night (or week), trip over the cats, battle with Dan for the bathroom, trip over the cats, feed the cats, and yell at Dan because he’s parked behind me and I’m running late/be yelled at by Dan because I’m parked behind him and he’s running late (life was much easier when we didn’t leave at the same time).

7:10-8:05 – I drive to work, either listening to KDWB and alternating between laughing and feeling superior that I’m not one of them (You know, them.) or listening to the same two or three songs over and over and over…

8:05 – 5:00 – Work. Wherein I work. Or “work”.

5:00 – 6:10 – I drive home from work, hungry, grumpy, head ache-y, hating the radio, hating my cds, hating everything. Not the best hour and ten minutes of my day. Ever.

6:15-10:00-ish – Complain that we don’t have any food in the house, watch really bad tv, play around with Photoshop on my laptop. For most of the evening I’ll have at least one cat on my lap, and somewhere in there I’ll take a long shower (sans cat on lap).

10:00-ish – I loudly proclaim that I’ve finally had enough of the world, with its “lights” and “consciousness”, and go to bed, where I’ll toss and turn for an hour before falling asleep.

I know that anyone with kids who is reading this is cursing my name and planting a bomb in my underwear drawer (rightfully so) because oh my god, I sleep a lot! And I never deal with anyone else’s poo.

Wait, what was my point? Oh yes. I want a baby. Sigh.

(Not that I want a baby so I’ll stop watching The Pussycat Dolls Present: Girlicious. No. That has nothing to do with it. Totally unrelated.)

Flo Control

 That is damn cool and makes me feel like such a lazy, unscientific cat owner.

Excuse me, I twitted.

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