Thursday, March 25, 2004
Strange happenings in desk-land
I had the strangest thing happen to me today. There I was, innocently using my computer for innocent activities involving the downloading of fan fiction (which are all perfectly innocent, of course... not a sex scene among them. Ha!), when I realized my Palm's cradle wasn't plugged into my computer.
The strange part came when I pulled out my computer so I could get behind it (I'm a supportive kind of gal), which then led to my having to clean up the papers sitting in the way, which then led to trying to figure out which of the approximately 19 thousand cords on my desk and nearby go to the cradle, which then led my actually having to clean part of my desk, which then led to a revelation: my desk is a lovely fake wood color.
Now, one might assume I would already know this. I do... or, rather, I did, once upon a time, when the earth was young and my desk was new. But that was some time ago, and life goes on. And in my life, I seem to have gathered quite a few miscellaneous papers, CD-Rs, Post-It notes, batteries, a cup, a spoon from regions unknown, SpongeBob SquarePants stickers, various M&M creatures, various computer-related items (some of which I have no clue as to their function), remotes, CDs, Lego's, a replacement face shield for my scooter helmet, a picture of a panda bear, photo paper, a Vince Gill autograph, a stereo (presently playing Jann Arden), some left-over candy from Halloween a friend gave me but I didn't like so I didn't eat it but I didn't have the heart to throw it away, a semi-functioning VCR, pens, toenail clippers, a bag of buttons/pins from my collection but for some reason is separately from the collection and is just sitting my desk, a drink coaster I never use because I can never find it -- in fact, I'm only guessing it's still on my desk, a Boba Fett spaceship action figure my mother unearthed a while back (it was my brother's when he a young lad), a gamepad, a digital camera, a power strip, a DVD player, a few DVDs, speakers, hand lotion, a lamp without a light bulb, a bag of Wint-O-Green LifeSavers I bought but didn't really care for but haven't given them to someone else yet, a computer, a trackball, a monitor, a screwdriver, thumb tacks, Tums, a recently rediscovered sheet of bubble wrap, and a sticker which says "I love to bitch."
That doesn't include what's in the drawers and cupboards. I'm afraid to look in those.
Or, Heaven forbid, the stuff which has fallen behind my desk and is presently lodged between the desk and the wall and shall thus remain there forever because my desk is a corner shape and is quite heavy and awkward and takes at least three people of moderate strength and dexterity to move it.
I also have some face lotion which specifically says it is "day lotion." I have been very careful to avoid using it at night, as I do not want to know what happens if I do. It could be a "Gremlins" thing, and frankly, I don't have enough kitchen appliances to take care of the results. (If you don't understand the reference, rent the movie. Thank you.)
The rediscovery of my desk color has brought forth a dilemma I am unsure how to solve. I could finish cleaning off my desk (putting the contents who knows where.... an alternate dimension, perhaps?) so I can admire the desk in its full fake wood glory. It sounds like a good, solid idea. But I also know me, which is what leads to my hesitation, because I know, deep down, it will be a mess again in short order, should I deign to clean it now.
So I could clean it with the false pretense of keeping it that way, or I could just be honest with myself and leave it the way it is. Decisions, decisions. Be self deluded but briefly more organized, or honest and a mess (the desk that is... I think)?
I won't even begin to mention what the rest of the room looks like. Let's just say my motto is "I'm not messy, I'm creative" and leave it at that.
Now, if you'll excuse me I have to stare at the clean spot on my desk while I make my important decision -- to clean or not to clean. This could take days or even weeks, so if you don't hear from me for a bit, you'll know my brain is hard at work, pondering the pro's and con's of this potentially life altering matter. Right now, I'm leaning towards self delusion, but I can make no definitive statements on this matter until it has been thoroughly pondered.
It beats actually doing the cleaning, at any rate. I'd do anything to avoid that. Heck, I spent the last hour or so rambling about it, for goodness sake. I could probably have cleaned the darn thing four or five times by now. But where's the fun in that?
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The strange part came when I pulled out my computer so I could get behind it (I'm a supportive kind of gal), which then led to my having to clean up the papers sitting in the way, which then led to trying to figure out which of the approximately 19 thousand cords on my desk and nearby go to the cradle, which then led my actually having to clean part of my desk, which then led to a revelation: my desk is a lovely fake wood color.
Now, one might assume I would already know this. I do... or, rather, I did, once upon a time, when the earth was young and my desk was new. But that was some time ago, and life goes on. And in my life, I seem to have gathered quite a few miscellaneous papers, CD-Rs, Post-It notes, batteries, a cup, a spoon from regions unknown, SpongeBob SquarePants stickers, various M&M creatures, various computer-related items (some of which I have no clue as to their function), remotes, CDs, Lego's, a replacement face shield for my scooter helmet, a picture of a panda bear, photo paper, a Vince Gill autograph, a stereo (presently playing Jann Arden), some left-over candy from Halloween a friend gave me but I didn't like so I didn't eat it but I didn't have the heart to throw it away, a semi-functioning VCR, pens, toenail clippers, a bag of buttons/pins from my collection but for some reason is separately from the collection and is just sitting my desk, a drink coaster I never use because I can never find it -- in fact, I'm only guessing it's still on my desk, a Boba Fett spaceship action figure my mother unearthed a while back (it was my brother's when he a young lad), a gamepad, a digital camera, a power strip, a DVD player, a few DVDs, speakers, hand lotion, a lamp without a light bulb, a bag of Wint-O-Green LifeSavers I bought but didn't really care for but haven't given them to someone else yet, a computer, a trackball, a monitor, a screwdriver, thumb tacks, Tums, a recently rediscovered sheet of bubble wrap, and a sticker which says "I love to bitch."
That doesn't include what's in the drawers and cupboards. I'm afraid to look in those.
Or, Heaven forbid, the stuff which has fallen behind my desk and is presently lodged between the desk and the wall and shall thus remain there forever because my desk is a corner shape and is quite heavy and awkward and takes at least three people of moderate strength and dexterity to move it.
I also have some face lotion which specifically says it is "day lotion." I have been very careful to avoid using it at night, as I do not want to know what happens if I do. It could be a "Gremlins" thing, and frankly, I don't have enough kitchen appliances to take care of the results. (If you don't understand the reference, rent the movie. Thank you.)
The rediscovery of my desk color has brought forth a dilemma I am unsure how to solve. I could finish cleaning off my desk (putting the contents who knows where.... an alternate dimension, perhaps?) so I can admire the desk in its full fake wood glory. It sounds like a good, solid idea. But I also know me, which is what leads to my hesitation, because I know, deep down, it will be a mess again in short order, should I deign to clean it now.
So I could clean it with the false pretense of keeping it that way, or I could just be honest with myself and leave it the way it is. Decisions, decisions. Be self deluded but briefly more organized, or honest and a mess (the desk that is... I think)?
I won't even begin to mention what the rest of the room looks like. Let's just say my motto is "I'm not messy, I'm creative" and leave it at that.
Now, if you'll excuse me I have to stare at the clean spot on my desk while I make my important decision -- to clean or not to clean. This could take days or even weeks, so if you don't hear from me for a bit, you'll know my brain is hard at work, pondering the pro's and con's of this potentially life altering matter. Right now, I'm leaning towards self delusion, but I can make no definitive statements on this matter until it has been thoroughly pondered.
It beats actually doing the cleaning, at any rate. I'd do anything to avoid that. Heck, I spent the last hour or so rambling about it, for goodness sake. I could probably have cleaned the darn thing four or five times by now. But where's the fun in that?
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Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Important late breaking birthday developments
First, let me apologize to those on the mailing list for the double dose of postings yesterday. I don't know why the blog decided to resend the Feb. 17th posting. I think it just liked the pretty painting contained within.
In birthday news, let me give you a recap of the day thus far:
I went to the friendly neighborhood Bi-Mart (for those not familiar, it's kinda like Wal-Mart, only not) to get some important supplies, namely treats for my cats and Airplane! on DVD, because that is one of my favorite all-time movies, and it is my birthday, after all.
On the way home, my scooter started sputtering, and died about a block away from home. After pushing it up a small but annoying hill, I parked it and dug through the stuff under the seat to get the replacement spark plug and socket to replace it. That's when I discovered I no longer had the socket (thought I did have the socket wrench), so I had to borrow one from the neighbor.
As I was laying on the ground replacing the spark plug and getting rather dirty in the process, my friend came to take me to lunch -- two hours early -- so I didn't have time to change after getting all dirty. Fortunately, replacing the spark plug actually was the problem with my bike, or I would have had to cry, and one shouldn't cry on one's birthday, despite what the song says.
But I could cry, cry if I want to.
So we went to lunch (of course, the first place I wanted to go was closed), and afterwards my friend discovered she'd locked her keys in the car. So I called a tow truck, was told it would be $35 to have the lock opened, and we waited. Did I mention she had an 8-month-old with her? The tow truck came about 20 minutes later, and he opened the door... and was a sweetheart and didn't charge us. I'm thinking I may want to bear his children.
I've decided to spend the rest of the day at home, inside, well away from any sort of vehicle which would surely break if I came within 20 feet of it. Instead, I'm going to watch some movies, eat some popcorn, and forget the statistics that say most accidents occur in the home.
Take care all, and if you don't happen to be having a birthday today, I suggest taking the advice of 50 Cent and "party like it's yo birthday."
But don't invite me to come over. Quite frankly, I may never leave the house again.
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In birthday news, let me give you a recap of the day thus far:
I went to the friendly neighborhood Bi-Mart (for those not familiar, it's kinda like Wal-Mart, only not) to get some important supplies, namely treats for my cats and Airplane! on DVD, because that is one of my favorite all-time movies, and it is my birthday, after all.
On the way home, my scooter started sputtering, and died about a block away from home. After pushing it up a small but annoying hill, I parked it and dug through the stuff under the seat to get the replacement spark plug and socket to replace it. That's when I discovered I no longer had the socket (thought I did have the socket wrench), so I had to borrow one from the neighbor.
As I was laying on the ground replacing the spark plug and getting rather dirty in the process, my friend came to take me to lunch -- two hours early -- so I didn't have time to change after getting all dirty. Fortunately, replacing the spark plug actually was the problem with my bike, or I would have had to cry, and one shouldn't cry on one's birthday, despite what the song says.
But I could cry, cry if I want to.
So we went to lunch (of course, the first place I wanted to go was closed), and afterwards my friend discovered she'd locked her keys in the car. So I called a tow truck, was told it would be $35 to have the lock opened, and we waited. Did I mention she had an 8-month-old with her? The tow truck came about 20 minutes later, and he opened the door... and was a sweetheart and didn't charge us. I'm thinking I may want to bear his children.
I've decided to spend the rest of the day at home, inside, well away from any sort of vehicle which would surely break if I came within 20 feet of it. Instead, I'm going to watch some movies, eat some popcorn, and forget the statistics that say most accidents occur in the home.
Take care all, and if you don't happen to be having a birthday today, I suggest taking the advice of 50 Cent and "party like it's yo birthday."
But don't invite me to come over. Quite frankly, I may never leave the house again.
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Monday, March 08, 2004
My life in so many words
I've been pondering the meaning of my life lately, since I'm almost old. On the morrow (the 9th) I shall be 30, I figured it was high time I started upon the quest of discovering why I was placed on this earth... what it is I was meant to do.
From what I can tell, it mainly centers around the important duty of petting. I do that quite a bit. And not the happy hot and heavy kind of petting one might do with another human being... no, this is the petting of the dog and cat and occasional guinea pig variety in a very non-sexual way, which doesn't get hot and heavy, but I do get licked in the face from time to time.
So, if that's why I'm here, then I guess I can stop all that pondering. It distracts me from my important petting duties, and we wouldn't want that to happen.
In related news, my mother and I managed, for the very first time, to get my rottweiler, Shasta, into the bathtub for a bath. I've had Shasta since last summer, and in that time, I've tried the bathtub, the shower, a kiddy pool and a hose out back. At 80-85 lbs., she's not a huge dog, but she's not a weakling, either, so up until now she'd managed to avoid getting into all of them, causing me to have to bath her with towels dipped in water. But the other day we actually shoved and pulled her into the bathtub, and she actually stayed there until her bath was over. I'm still amazed.
That was just after I'd bathed both springers, who were fairly cooperative and weren't any trouble at all. Shasta had other ideas. Her problem is she thinks too much. If only she'd learn to relax and enjoy life things would be simpler.
Of course, I don't take that advice often enough, either, so I'm hardly one to talk.
Well, it's getting late, and since I have the important job of getting old tomorrow, I best sign off. When next I ramble I'll have officially changing both digits in my age. But don't cry for me, fore I shall overcome... or, at least, go into denial.
I hate to think what will happen when I hit 40.
For the record, I think neither 30 nor 40 are old. I'm just less prepared for 30 than I thought I'd be, and it's hitting me up side the head. I'll get over it. Chocolate will help. Chocolate always helps. Take care, all.
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From what I can tell, it mainly centers around the important duty of petting. I do that quite a bit. And not the happy hot and heavy kind of petting one might do with another human being... no, this is the petting of the dog and cat and occasional guinea pig variety in a very non-sexual way, which doesn't get hot and heavy, but I do get licked in the face from time to time.
So, if that's why I'm here, then I guess I can stop all that pondering. It distracts me from my important petting duties, and we wouldn't want that to happen.
In related news, my mother and I managed, for the very first time, to get my rottweiler, Shasta, into the bathtub for a bath. I've had Shasta since last summer, and in that time, I've tried the bathtub, the shower, a kiddy pool and a hose out back. At 80-85 lbs., she's not a huge dog, but she's not a weakling, either, so up until now she'd managed to avoid getting into all of them, causing me to have to bath her with towels dipped in water. But the other day we actually shoved and pulled her into the bathtub, and she actually stayed there until her bath was over. I'm still amazed.
That was just after I'd bathed both springers, who were fairly cooperative and weren't any trouble at all. Shasta had other ideas. Her problem is she thinks too much. If only she'd learn to relax and enjoy life things would be simpler.
Of course, I don't take that advice often enough, either, so I'm hardly one to talk.
Well, it's getting late, and since I have the important job of getting old tomorrow, I best sign off. When next I ramble I'll have officially changing both digits in my age. But don't cry for me, fore I shall overcome... or, at least, go into denial.
I hate to think what will happen when I hit 40.
For the record, I think neither 30 nor 40 are old. I'm just less prepared for 30 than I thought I'd be, and it's hitting me up side the head. I'll get over it. Chocolate will help. Chocolate always helps. Take care, all.
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