Kitty!

I feel like butt, but the weather is perfectly cold and rainy, and I'm snuggling a stinky kitty. =)

So my tastes are weird. Shut up. :P

Still Alive

I'm still alive. Been busy with work and writing and knitting and lupus, though, and I just haven't had much time for the Intarweb. I've got a bunch of emails to get back to (sorry, Ingrid and Linda!), so with luck I'll get to do that later in the week. I'm in the middle of a lupus flare, though, so I may just sleep until Wednesday.

Must go and eat something. I slept until almost noon, slept again from 4:00 to 8:00, and will probably pass out again within the hour. Lupus really is an annoying condition. Between pain and exhaustion, it's hard to want to do anything right now.

First Day of Work

Sweet Elvis, I need to take up sewing again. There is not enough time in the day to do everything I want to do. Curse my hyper-creative kinesthetic ways!

DO WANT

I. Need. This shirt. XXL. For indeed, the message is apt.

Re-Entering the Workforce 101

So starting Tuesday, I shall be gainfully employed. This is going to sound dorky to most of you and OMFG amazing to a few, but I'm going to be working in a sewing machine store. An AWESOME sewing machine store. I spent more than an hour playing with one on Friday, and IT SEWS SIDEWAYS. IT SEWS ON A DIAGONAL. I WANT ONE!

No, this will not eat into writing or knitting time. However, I may have to take up sewing again at some point. I haven't really done it since we moved into an apartment too small and cluttered to really spread out any fabric. Now that we're in a house, though....

On the plus side, the toys at work are too expensive to randomly bring one home. Mmm, toys. Waaaaant....

Anyone got a thousand dollars spare I can have?

Potential Booty?

Arr, it be International Talk Like A Pirate Day, mateys. That mean I be havin' a job interview as bonny as a bottle o' rum fresh from Barbados. What be a pirate to do?

Arr. A conundrum this be.

One more thing.

All of you USian types are registered to vote, aren't you? We're getting awfully close to the deadline before November 4.

A heart attack I did NOT need

I just saw what appeared to be a ms page on my printer. A few days ago, I finally submitted a story that I've been struggling with for over two years. It's been written in whole twice, edited, revamped, and finally got down to a (hopefully) finished product of 14,700 words. The whole thing is 65 pages long.

You have not experienced heart-stopping horror until you think you left out the last page.

Fortunately, it turned out to be this year's holiday fruitcake recipe printed on the back of one of my old unused printouts--of a completely different story. It's all too strong of an illustration of what this week has been like. At least this bit turned out for the best.

Now I'm going to go play with my Wii and hope I get a new couch (and some other, slightly more mysterious and potentially horrible things) today.

I'm calling you "Stinky"

Crowley, aka Gorbacat (no, seriously, he looks like Gorbachev), has a few disconcerting habits and a particular affinity for stench. His breath stinks, his butt used to reek like a dead alligator in a cesspool, and he likes to share his stink. When he has a bath, not only do the soggy slurping sounds echo through the room, but the stench follows. How he isn't a walking blob of stink is beyond me.

Anyhow, he's discovered a new source of stink: Daddy's shoes. The Import will get home from work and take his shoes off. Half a second later, Crowley's hunched over them and has his face in one to the neck. I'm not stupid enough to actually want to smell Daddy's feet (especially since he can never find where I put the socks), but if Crowley likes it, they've got to be pretty ripe. I pity the beauty tech who someday gives him a pedicure.

Is it just my cats, or are everyone else's cats crazy? (I can't even go to the bathroom without Baby deciding she's got a captive audience and all the pettins she can take.)

The Joy of Sleep

So last night I dreamt (horribly) that Barack Obama only got 3,000 votes nationwide in the general election. No idea where it came from, but now I'm afraid to go to bed. ("Can't sleep. Neo-cons will eat me. Can't sleep. Neo-cons will eat me.") I'm going to try and wear myself out on the Wii Fit, then take some pain killers.

Smoke me a kipper. I'll be back for sleep through breakfast.