Happy Halloween!!!

And in the spirit of the day, I thought I'd share some pictures.

Dog as an Elf

Yellow Cat as a pimped out Elf

Yellow Cat as a Ladybug

Black Cat as a Demon

Black Cat as a Demon, Take 2

I know it seems like Black Cat got the short end of the stick on this post, but...I don't have any pictures of her in a costume. So she got to be the Demon Eyed Cat. Sorry, Black Cat.

The Day Before Halloween

'Twas the Day before Halloween and all through the world, strange things were happening right in front of this girl. So strange were these things that she went to the computer, opened her blog and wrote about scooters.

Ok. I'm not really going to write about scooters. But it was the ONLY THING that (kind of) rhymed and (kind of) made sense.

• There was a road sign today on my way to work that said that the road will be closed for 5 hours this weekend because of a street race. Maybe I don't fully understand the nuances of that message, but...aren't street races dangerous? And also, illegal? And yet, the Department of Transportation (or whoever is in charge of putting up those electronic road signs and closing down roads) is okay with this? And even if I'm wrong and street races are actually as legal and safe as skim milk, is it really a great idea to have people racing on a street that is always teeming with pedestrians?
• I really enjoy walking across the quad on campus because there is always--ALWAYS--something crazy going on there. On Tuesday, there was a man re-enacting bible verses that pertained to hell and the devil. At one point, he halfway climbed up a tree, threw himself off, and then lay on the ground writhing and yelling about how if you succumb to sin, you will be thrown into the flames. Today, in that same spot, there was a condom distribution booth set up and the people who were running the booth had (hopefully unused) neon-colored condoms pinned all over their clothes. And they were tossing condoms to all passers-by. Since I passed by, I got one flavored like cookie dough ice cream. Didn't even realize they MADE those.
• For the past six weeks or so, I've gone to Bruegger's for lunch every Tuesday and Thursday. And every single time, I get a bowl of soup and a strawberry yogurt. And EVERY SINGLE TIME, the woman at the counter says, "Soup and a yogurt, what a combination!" And she says it like it's the first time she's ever said it. Every. Single. Time. So now I'm wondering if maybe she has that form of amnesia where you keep losing your memory every few minutes, so she really thinks that we've never had this conversation before.

A Disclaimer

So. Back when I was busy being envious of pregnant people, I was the kind of obnoxious human being who thought things like "Oh, morning sickness...I'd SO like to experience morning sickness!" and "I can't wait until my clothes no longer fit me because that will mean I'm growing a PERSON, how cool!" Now that I'm 12 weeks into this mess? Um. 28 weeks seems like a really, really long time to go.

Now, let's backtrack for just one teeny, tiny moment so that I can say that there are STILL days when I'm grateful for the crazy, tomato-product fueled nausea because it serves to convince me that all is going well with this pregnancy. That said, when I'm actually in the MIDST of this aforementioned sickness? All I can think is "Oh. My. God. I CHOSE for this to happen to me."

And granted, when I'm at home, it's very exciting that when I look in the mirror, I very definitely look bigger because this FURTHER convinces me that maybe, just maybe, we'll get to bring home a baby in about 7 months. But. If I'm showing at home, it means I'm showing at work. Which means that (a) three people have told me in the past 24 hours that it looks like I've been overindulging in donuts and the like and (b) I now have to constantly wear a jacket because of the whole not-being-ready-to-tell-my-advisor thing.

But every time I think something like "Geez, I wish this nausea would GO AWAY already," or "Hm, it sure would be nice if I could fit into my pants without using a rubber band contraption to hold them closed," the very next thought in my head comes from the snarky, superstitious voice telling me to SHUT UP before the universe hears me complaining and decides to take away the nausea, the belly, AND the baby. So this is my message to the universe: "Dear Universe, I'm THRILLED to be pregnant. I'm excited to be experiencing these things because the alternate would be terrible. But when the smell of BEING INSIDE makes you gag every time you walk into a building and it's too cold outside to live in a tent? You're allowed to voice your complaints."

And I Decided To Go To Grad School Because...?

Reason # 151 to avoid academia:

Me: Hi, Stats Professor, I had some questions about the Statistics I'm using for my thesis. So...if I wanted to determine whether the improvement of scores is greater in Group A than in Group B, what would I do?

Stats Professor: Well, you could think of it as a correlation of related correlations. But that wouldn't fully capture the improvement, so maybe instead, you should think of the first set of scores as predicting the second set. Then, all you have to do is write an equation to remove the correlation between the two sets, and then add group membership as your new predictor. But make sure you also look at the interaction between the correlation and group membership, because otherwise, you might be looking at a three-dimensional issue from a two-dimensional viewpoint.

My notes as a result of this conversation: Correlations...group membership...three dimensional...good grief, I'm NEVER GOING TO GRADUATE.

And Reason # 152 to avoid academia:

Advisor: Anisha, Professor Z wants a new publication, so I told her about the literature review section of your thesis proposal. So if you don't mind, could you send me an electronic copy of that so that I could share it with her and see if she wants to publish it?

Me: Um. Ooookay. I guess. But. If Professor Z publishes MY literature review...um...I'd get SOME credit for it, right?

Advisor: Oh, we'd never publish it without your approval!

Side note: My literature review is the thing I've worked on for the past SEVEN MONTHS. By myself. With no input WHATSOEVER from Professor Z. Who now gets to "see if she wants to publish" MY work. And if she decides that she likes it, I get the grand and wonderful privilege of "approving" all this. Notice how "approval" is not the same as "authorship." And even if I did manage to talk my way into getting credit for the authorship of the paper that I wrote in the first place, I would, at best, be listed as the fourth or fifth author. On the paper that--oh, did I mention?--I WROTE!

We Went To The Animal Fair

After 10 full days of HATING the Fair's very existence and what it meant to my daily commute (ie- added an extra 10-30 minutes, depending on the time of day), we finally made it out there yesterday. And as usual, it was terrific. Of course, this year, we had to avoid all the places with animals because the smell of dozens of animals in an enclosed space? Not the greatest when you're already sensitive to smells. But we did stay for 3 hours and despite the raging headache that I earned at the end of it, it was oh-so-worth-it. And here's why:

12:20 - arrive at Fair. Realize that it's 80 degrees and that perhaps the sweater you had chosen that morning was slight overkill. Spend the next three hours trying (fruitlessly) to roll up the sleeves.
12:30 - enter the Fair after standing in what might have been the shortest entrance line EVER. Head straight for the food.
12:32 - eat a corn dog. A yummy, deep-fried, very unhealthy corn dog. Reflect on the fact that this might be the best corn dog ever created.
12:35-12:45 - follow McMoose around as he looks for kebabs because the kebabs at the first stall we pass might not have been good enough. Grumble.
12:50 - McMoose finally decides that in the absence of other options, the kebabs at the first stall would do just fine. Return to the first stall, where McMoose promptly decides that he wants kebabs AND an gyro. Wonder silently which one of you is growing the extra person.
1 - 1:15 - sit in the grass as McMoose munches on his lunch. Realize that perhaps that one corn dog might not have been enough to fulfill your now-constant hunger.
1:20 - Notice an elephant ears stall. Buy an elephant ear with powdered sugar. Get powdered sugar all over your clothes in the process of gobbling what might be the most perfect elephant ear ever created.
1:30 - Start looking for some games.
1:45 - FINALLY find the game stalls. Try to pop some balloons with darts. Fail miserably. Rejoice when you realize that the guy who runs the stall wasn't watching and lets you have a stuffed lobster despite the miserable failure.
1:55 - Walk around shaking your 3-inch-long stuffed lobster, feeling proud. Notice someone else walking around with a 3-foot-long stuffed gorilla. Think to yourself that the lobster is better anyway, because who has room for a 3-foot-tall stuffed gorilla in their living room?
2 - Find another game where you have to throw some rubber balls onto a grid and try to get 5 in a row. Almost keel over in surprise when you actually get 5 in a row. Win a 2-foot-tall stuffed gorilla. Realize that all your prior reservations about large stuffed gorillas have now disappeared.
2:15 - Find a skeeball stall. Spend an unreasonable amount of time, effort, and money playing skeeball. After 10 minutes and $15, realize that you're never going to win at this. Leave.
2:30 - Realize that it's STILL hot and that you're STILL wearing that darned sweater. Grumble. Decide it's time to go home.
2:40 - Make one last stop at a food stall. Buy a very large plate of sweet potato chips. Proudly carry it to the car, trying to ignore the stares of EVERY.SINGLE.PERSON you pass.

Hands down, the best way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

A Most Woeful Dilemma

A couple of weeks ago, when we had gone to visit my mom and stepdad, we brought back a dresser that used to be mine about a decade ago. For about two years now, my mom has been threatening to throw it out and I have said "No, don't do that...I'll get it the next time I visit." And for two years, I kept forgetting that promise. But then! I began making the mental list of all the baby stuff we need and it occurred to me that hey! The dresser is still around! And in reasonably good condition (i.e.- still standing). And it has a carved in design of Winnie-the-Pooh and all of his little friends. And best of all? IT'S FREE!

So we picked it up and brought it home and looked at it and I realized that it didn't look QUITE the same as I had remembered. It had some water stains and some burn marks and the handles on the drawers left a lot to be desired. But no problem, because I had planned to refinish it anyway, so that it would match other things in our apartment. And that, right there? That's where this whole plan starts to fall apart. Because as it turns out, refinishing old furniture? Not as easy as it looks on HGTV.

So we went out and bought sandpaper and the right color of stain and some staining brush-pad things and thought we were all set. And we came home and we sanded. And sanded. And sanded. And after a while, I decided that I HATE sanding and passed that task on to McMoose so that I could begin staining the drawers that had already been sanded. At which point, we realized that sanding ALL the previous stain off the drawers? Not a good plan. Apparently, you're only supposed to sand the varnish off. Who knew! So the next bout of sanding went by much, much faster and we got everything stained a beautiful mahogany color and I thought "Feh. This was eeeeaaasy."

And then, we bought the finish. The clear-coat finish. Which was made to go on top of stained furniture. And there was some warning about "This product might irrevocably damage the stain on your furniture," which I promptly disregarded because this product, as I already mentioned, was MADE to go on top of stained furniture. That's the entire PURPOSE of this product. So why in the world would it damage the stain? I still can't answer the why part of that question, but what I can tell you is this: NEVER DISREGARD WARNING LABELS. EVER. Because as soon as I put the finish on, it began blistering my previously beautiful stain, until it looked like the entire dresser had a horrible skin disease.

Which means that we are now back at the sanding phase. And when I say "we," I mean McMoose. And this weekend is colder than last weekend, which means that I am going to be that much grumpier when I'm out on the balcony re-staining everything. And furthermore? What am I supposed to use to finish this project after I stain it? I mean, if I can't use the product that was INTENDED for this use, what am I supposed to use instead? Cling wrap? Clear Elmer's glue? WHAT?

Thursday: The Third Day

The long awaited bullet post.

• I almost got run over by a man-boy on a bicycle today. And when I say "almost," I mean that he rode OVER my foot and had I not jerked away and put my arms out and pushed him away from me, I would have bike tire impressions on my face right now. I feel bad about pushing him. But I would have felt much worse about the bike tire impressions. And also, this guy? Was leaking alcohol out of his very PORES. At 10 in the morning. Maybe I should start a don't-drink-and-bike campaign.
• I saw a flier for the Underwater Electronics Club today. Let's think about this, shall we? I'm no electrical engineer, so my understanding of this subject goes something like this: Electronics + Water = Not Usually A Good Thing. So...wouldn't the Underwater Electronics Club be somewhat synonymous to the Let's Do Stupid Things That Will Probably Get Us Killed Club?
• Number of times I've tripped today: 14.

Sockin' It Up

I'm a sock person. And I'm also a shoe person and an earring person and a purse person. By which I mean that I have a special fondness for all of these articles of clothing and that, as a result, I tend to gravitate towards them any time I walk into a store, and as a result of that, I have a healthy collection of all of them. But as I was rummaging through my sock drawer this morning, looking for a pair that was relatively free of holes, it occurred to me that lately? I haven't really been buying socks. In fact, most of my new sock acquisitions of the past two or three years have been gifted to me by McMoose or my mom, both of whom are painfully familiar with my obsession.

And then, it further occurred to me that my 16-year-old self would be sorely disappointed in my 24-year-old self. Because that 16-year-old was CERTAIN that by age 24, she'd be living in some big city, spending every spare cent on socks and purses and shoes and earrings. And instead, here I am, living in what can only be described as a suburb. And the idea of spending 5 dollars on socks when that same 5 dollars could instead go towards making my bank account just a tiny bit happier has suddenly become odiously unacceptable. But. I have a pitiful, hairy, pointy-eared Dog and two very entertaining Cats. And I have a McMoose who makes me tea and who doesn't force me to watch gross, gory movies even though it's ALMOST HALLOWEEN. And I have this lemon-sized person that I'm growing. And the idea of being perpetually broke in a cold, grimy city is starting to lose some of its lustre.

But maybe I'll go buy a pair of socks this weekend.

Do You See What I See?

Things I saw today which warrant a mention here:

1. A pick-up truck hauling a pumpkin that was approximately the same size as a St. Bernard. Not even joking. What do you DO with a pumpkin that size?

2. A so-called "adult fair" that had been set up on campus. There was a cardboard cut-out of a cow wearing a diaper. And a very large plastic ladybug that had a path/maze that you could walk around in. I feel like there's a joke or a statement of some kind here, but...I'm just not getting it.

3. A woman walking out of one of the pizza shops near campus with a child who was on a leash and a dog who was not.

4. A bottle of cranberry juice that had expired in May of 2006. It looked (and according to my advisor, smelled and tasted) relatively normal.

5. A group of people carrying "Support free speech" signs next to a group of people who were trying to get a certain book banned from the university library. And then, when I walked by again an hour later, the two groups of people were eating lunch. Together. And talking. And laughing. What?! You can disagree with someone and still enjoy their company? IMAGINE THAT!

And so today has been megawatts brighter than yesterday.

Is This A Symptom of Pregnancy?

I have many anxious days, days when I feel like I have 20 million tasks to accomplish and not only is there not enough time to accomplish them all, but there isn't even enough room in my head to REMEMBER them all. Days when I am convinced that all the good things in my life are destined to smolder and die. Days when I really, truly wish that I were a religious sort of person, if only so that I could say (and actually BELIEVE) that "God is in control here." And on most of these anxious days, I make lists on post-it notes and I write emails to myself and I whine to McMoose. And also on most of these anxious days, I make an active effort to write about something else, some other mundane part of my day on this blog. Because for one thing, the 20 minute break that I take from the otherwise unstoppable anxiety is usually a sanity saver and for another, I started this blog with the intention of writing about ironic or colorful or somewhat humorous parts of my day.

But today, I'm making an exception because today, my anxiety has reached such a level that I cannot--CANNOT--distract myself for long enough to compose a coherent post. And if I tried, it would be a meaningless rant about how I left my keys in the car this morning and had to walk all the way back to the parking deck to retrieve them in the cold, cold wind. And really, my head and hands are incapable of composing that particular post.

So instead, I'm using this forum to document just how crazy I feel today. Crazy-rushed. Crazy-frantic. Crazy-worried about all the worst case scenarios that my mind is hellbent on creating. And that last one, that's the one that takes me to the brink of the about-to-lose-my-mind kind of crazy. Because the rushed and the frantic can be cured by going down my to-do list and checking off tasks as I complete them and then, two days from now, I would be all caught up and life would be normal again. But. The crazy-worried part of my head is so anxious about EVERYTHING that I can't even begin to focus on that to-do list.

And really, the rational part of my brain does recognize that these things I'm worried about? Most of them are Highly Unlikely. Unfortunately, the rational part of my brain is being outvoted right now by the highly irrational, very pessimistic part that insists on thinking that the world is coming to a fiery end any day now. Which means that all I feel capable of doing today is hiding under a blanket and waiting for tomorrow, in the hopes that tomorrow will be a brighter day than today.

Traffic, Cracker Barrel, and a Vegetable Stew

Again, the bullet-post. Again, a day late.

• Amount of time it normally takes me to drive home: 25 minutes. Amount of time it took me to drive home last night: 75 minutes. Why, you ask? Because yesterday was the first day of the State Fair. Now, I get that the State Fair is a big deal and that it only comes once a year and all that. But seriously. Whose idea was it to put the fairgrounds on one of the BUSIEST STREETS in Raleigh?
• Amount of time it normally takes me to drive to work in the morning: 25 minutes. Amount of time it took me to drive to work this morning: 50 minutes. Not as bad as last night, but let's keep in mind that this was at 9:30 on a Friday morning. Which means that as I was chugging along on my way to work, I had to pass all the cheerful families who got to play hooky from work and school so they could munch on boiled peanuts and funnel cakes. YES, I'M JEALOUS.
• I'm very happily counting down until 7:30 this evening because (a) I get to have dinner with a very good friend and (b) that dinner will be had at CRACKER BARREL. Which tends to be synonymous to PURE, UNADULTERATED JOY. I'm already scanning my mental map of their menu and trying to decide what KIND of joy I plan to indulge in.
• I'm feeling kind of short and squat today. And yesterday. Possibly because every single person I've encountered for the past 36 hours has been about 7 feet tall. I'm the eggplant in a world full of carrots.

Of Mice And Dogs

As I was walking to get my lunch today, I came across a very small, brown animal of some kind that scared the living daylights out of me because given the size, my immediate assumption was that it was a rodent of some kind sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. Then, I noticed that it had a little red collar, which was connected to a little red leash, which was connected to a woman wearing a little red raincoat a few feet away, so I looked again. Because really, even the most ardent rodent lovers don't tend to bring their pet rats for walks on a leash, right?

As it turns out, it was NOT a rat, but rather a teeny-tiny, very shaggy dog. Imagine a St. Bernard that weighs about 1.5 pounds. I think this might be the ideal dog for us because I like St. Bernards and McMoose likes small little rodent-type dogs. Sadly, by the time I got over my fear of the rat like thing and decided that this would be the perfect pet for us (you know...in a world where we had the time and inclination to have MORE pets...), the woman and the dog had already crossed the street and I couldn't ask her what kind of dog it was. And google? Not very helpful in this particular quest.

Hypothetically Speaking

The whole being-in-charge-of-your-own-healthcare thing is going quite poorly. This morning, I called my doctor's office to check on the price of a test that may or may not be covered by my insurance. Chances are that I'll have the test done regardless of whether it's covered by insurance, but I'd like to know ahead of time how much I'm going to have to pay. Because knowing that kind of thing helps prevent heart attacks upon finding a ridiculously high bill in the mail. Plus, if it's too ludicrously expensive, I'd like the opportunity to refuse the test BEFORE they take another five gallons of blood from me. So in the interest of being an informed consumer, I made the call.

Me: Hi, I'm calling to find out about the cost of Test X if insurance doesn't pay for any of it.
Billing Agent: Well, it'll depend on whether your insurance pays for some of it.
Me: No. I want to know just the cost of the test. If insurance didn't cover any of the cost, what would I have to pay?
BA: That depends on your insurance.
Me: O...kay. What if I didn't have any insurance? Then how much would it be?
BA: Well, we accept Medicare. And if you're not insured, we can have one of our insurance experts talk to you about applying for Medicare.
Me: No, I AM insured. I just want to know the cost of the test. Ok, suppose I told you that I didn't want you to file a claim with my insurance for this test and I wanted to pay for it out of pocket. How much would it cost then?
BA: Ma'am, you're going to have to call back this afternoon and talk to my manager.

WHY is it so hard to get the answer to a simple, little question?

Doggy Daycare, Part 2

We were in New Jersey visiting my mom and step-dad this past weekend, which was fun and exhausting all at the same time. I always like driving up north this time of year because even though it's still very much summer here in North Carolina, the trees change from green to yellow and red to brown to halfway bare by the time we're in New Jersey and it kind of feels like traveling through time. Plus, this time McMoose went with me, which was a nice change because I had someone to split the driving with and also, someone to help me find my way back to the interstate when I got lost. Because the GPS system? It kinda sucks at that job.

But this trip was also a little bit nerve wracking because of the whole having to put the Dog in a kennel for the first time in a couple of years thing. We did the research. We found a kennel. We made the reservations and made sure he was up to date on his shots and packed his favorite toys. And we left him with the intimidating looking man at the kennel and hoped that when we returned in three days, he'd still be alive. Luckily for us, not only was he alive when he returned, but he was also freshly bathed and dressed in a very nice, green and blue plaid bandanna. He looked very dapper.

So it's a good kennel, right? They didn't kill the dog. Presumably, the fed him because he wasn't acting like a ravenous wolf when we picked him up. And hopefully, they walked him. But. Whenever I take him out of town or leave him with anyone, I always, ALWAYS pack at least 1-2 days worth of extra food. And this time was no exception. Plus, we picked him up an entire day early. And yet, his food supply was completely gone when we got him. Which means that (a) they fed him twice as much as they should have, (b) they fed his food to other dogs, or (c) they took the remainder of his food. Ok. Fine. I can deal with that. But. They ALSO took his rawhide bone. His BRAND NEW rawhide bone. Which means that I now have to buy not only a new bag of food, but also a new bag of bones. So I saved money on boarding him, but then spent MORE than I saved on his bath, his walks, and the food and bones. Super.

In Which Introductions Are Made

I'd like to introduce the reason why, for the past two months, I've been both ravenous and nauseous, tired but unable to stay asleep for any length of time, and bouncing back and forth between grouchy and completely thrilled with the world:

Yes, I know it looks like a fuzzy jelly bean. I have great hopes that it will grow out of that phase within the next 7 months. Just as a reference, the head's on the right of the screen and if you look very, VERY closely, you can see toes on the left. Why exactly do fetuses grow fingers and toes before they grow arms and legs???

Things I Did At Work Today

-Spent 10 minutes trying to figure out why my computer wouldn't turn on. Then realized it was because maintenance had vacuumed last night, which means that they had unplugged my computer so they could plug in the vacuum.

-Felt foolish about my above mentioned technological snafu.

-Read through an email that my health insurance company sent me, which informed me that Campus Health Services has an extensive array of services offered and that if I needed health care, I should consider them first. Rolled my eyes because I get this same email every time I go to an outside doctor and a claim is filed. Sorry BCBS, but sometimes, a Tylenol and a band-aid just doesn't do the job.

-Painted my co-workers fingernails. (WHY?)

-Completed about 70% of two separate crossword puzzles.

-Ran some stats. Got annoyed. Returned to the crossword puzzles.

-Finished editing my thesis proposal.

So see? It's been a VERY productive day.

Another Letter I'd Like To Write

Dear Cable and Internet Company,

I understand that you're highly concerned over the fact that you think I haven't returned the router from my old apartment. However, I wish YOU would understand that I'm highly concerned over the fact that I did, in fact, return it. Two-and-a-half months ago, to be exact. And since then, I have had no fewer than SEVEN conversations with various customer service representatives in which I have tried to explain the fact that I already returned it. And each time, the representative has been very polite and helpful and has assured me that he or she will change the records immediately to reflect the fact that I returned it. And then, two weeks later, I get YET ANOTHER letter from you about how concerned you are that I still haven't returned it.

In fact, the latest series of letters have all been in the form of an invoice and nowhere on the invoice does it mention WHAT exactly I'm being billed for. So if I didn't make it my business to know the exact amount of my regular monthly bill, I might very well be tricked into paying for equipment THAT YOU ALREADY HAVE sitting in some warehouse because I might think I'm just being billed for regular services. I applaud the nefarious plan, but would like to point out that you're not exactly endearing yourselves to me. And furthermore, the worst part of all of this is that I HAVE THE RECEIPT saying I returned the darn router. Which means that all you have to do is (a) ask me to fax you a copy or (b) agree to let me come into your office and SHOW you a copy. And since you refuse me both those options, the end result is that I have to take the time and effort every couple of weeks to try to sort this out. At this point, all I really have to say to you is that you and your collection agency had better not be messing with my credit rating over this mess.

Sincerely,
A Customer Who Is MOST DISPLEASED With Your Monopoly Over Cable Services.

The Burning Car

As I was driving to work this morning, I noticed a faint, burning smell, which made me instantly nervous because the last time I had noticed that particular smell, my engine exploded. Granted, that was my old car and this is my new(er) car, and so far, all the problems I've ever had with this car have been a direct result of Things I Have Done. Leaving the parking brake on while driving across town, for example, caused the once-silent brakes to squeal and express their general unhappiness. And then, there was the time when I swerved to avoid a cow (yes, a cow) and got too close to a dump-truck, which then threw a very large rock at me, causing what has become a very large crack in my windshield. But even knowing that my current car has never given me cause for concern, my first reaction when I got a whiff of that burned smell was to hit my brakes and stare suspiciously at my hood for any telltale smoke. Luckily for me, there was none.

Not so luckily for the guy driving the Very Old Car in front of me, there WAS smoke coming up out of his hood. In fact, it's what I would have defined as A LOT OF SMOKE. An unhealthy amount of smoke, even. And yet, he seemed completely unconcerned as he just continued driving on through that haze. People on the sidewalk pointed and stared. Cars that were around him slowed down so that if he did explode, we wouldn't explode along with him. And STILL, he was perfectly unconcerned. So I gotta ask: what kind of life experience makes you that calm in the face of potential death? Does his engine just catch on fire so regularly that it's now a commonplace part of his life? My curiosity about this guy has been hopelessly, irrevocably piqued.

A Letter I'd Like To Write

Dear Cell Phone Company,

My phone no longer rings when people call it. And sometimes, it tells who ever is calling that the number is no longer in service, which leads them to believe that I've died a fiery death. And then, they email me about how they're worried about this fiery death possibility, and then I have to email them BACK in a timely manner and reassure them that in fact, I am fully alive and quite un-burned. And quite frankly, this is not an email that I enjoy writing. Especially not multiple times. So if you could just go ahead and fix whatever glitch is causing this, that would be FANtastic. And also, the next time I call your customer service line and your only suggestion is that I get a NEW phone, even though my current phone is less than 2 years old and THEN you inform me that if I DO get a new phone, I'd have to pay the full, non-promotional price (aka: $200) for it, please don't be surprised if I reach through the phone lines and flick your ear.

Sincerely,

Your not-so-faithful-anymore customer.

Odds, Ends, Etc

• The pants I chose this morning don't fit. And of course, I didn't realize just how much they don't fit until AFTER I got to work, so there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. *GROWL*
• There are days when I just feel really, really good about this world and today? Definitely one of those days. Not that this general feeling of contentment is in any way influenced by the EVENTS of the day because in addition to the ill-fitting pants, my test score was slightly disappointing and I spilled my lunch on my pretty shirt and the list, it goes ON. But then, there's the fact that it's the PERFECT temperature outside--warm enough for flip-flops, but cool enough for a sweater, lots of sunshine, but also lots of breeze. And I've decided that fall is the best time to be on a university campus, ever.
• Even though I'm an awful procrastinator, I'm actually very possibly the most self-motivated person in my immediate circle of grad school friends. Which means that (a) my advisor likes me right now and (b) maybe I'll actually graduate and have a Master's degree within the next 7 months.
• McMoose has strep throat. I don't. And as much as I HATED being sick for the entire 2 years that I worked in daycare, I gotta say, I'm very much enjoying this boost to the immune system that has gotten me through the past 19 months without so much as a scratchy throat. So apparently, if you want to enjoy a period of good health, all you have to do is expose yourself to every virus in the known universe first, and then you're set.

Double the Trouble

Lately, I've been having issues with being double billed for things. Yesterday, for example, I bought a bowl of chili for lunch and the cashier told me that my total would be $9.68. And I automatically pulled out my check card and was about to hand it to her, when I realized that in no way, shape, or form was I going to pay almost ten dollars for a little bowl of soup. So I brought up that point and the cashier realized that she had pushed the button twice and all was well with the world.

And of course, there's the cable company who, for the past two and a half months has been trying to get me to pay for a piece of equipment that I have ALREADY returned. Every couple of weeks, they send me a bill and then I call them and say "Look here, I already returned this," and they say they're going to correct it in the system and then two weeks later, there's another bill. So I'm kinda getting sick of this little song and dance and I'm starting to consider just paying them and being done with it because in all reality, that $35 isn't going to make THAT much of a difference in my life. Except that on the other hand, I feel like I'd just be paying off a corporate bully and that I should continue this mess until I prevail. But...what if I never prevail? What if I'm 80 years old and I'm still having my biweekly conversations with these fools? And even worse, what if they actually follow through on their threats to send my account to a collection agency and then that somehow messes with my credit rating and then I can never own a home or get a credit card? WHAT THEN?