i see the galaxy falling down...

It is treat time. Yes, it is 10:10 a.m. on a rainy Monday morning and I am sitting at work (been here since 8:15) and I am not working I am typing out an entry for my diary.

So sue me.

Letís see, I put in an hour of work Saturday night and an hour of work last night (from 10pm-11pm, post-Christmas card writing).

Of course itís not like, ahem, Iíve ever written or read diaries on work-time before. *Cough. Cough*. I am merely bringing up this infraction as a matter of principle.

The principle being that I am fucking sick of work.


Sorry, what I meant to say was that I am awfully fatigured and am really looking forward to my two-week vacation that starts at some point this Friday. Hopefully before midnight.

Only have five projects to do between now and then.

And I STILL have to finish my final school paper.

Yes, the one that was supposed to be done on Friday.

But you see my instructor did not get the draft back to until Friday, so my deadline was extended to tomorrow, Tuesday.

In a fit of apathy I refused to look at it on Saturday. Which meant I spent nearly all fucking day on it yesterday. OK, six hours to be exact. And I still have one-third of it to go. Will finish that tonight. Must finish it tonight. No choice in the matter.

Rained all weekend, so it made it just a tiny bit more bearable to sit at the computer all weekend staring at text until my eyes blurred.

I did manage to actually get out of the house a few times this weekend AND do a little bit of Christmas shopping. Went to two live music shows and two art shows as a matter of fact. Saw people I havenít seen in months. Felt good to put on my fancy vintage faux leather coat with the fancy faux fur collar and cuffs and apply vixen red lipstick and hit the town. Felt good to smile and talk to people and listen to music and flirt with smart and funny men and drink way too many rum-and-diets and then, go home with the spouse and be glad that I was going home with him.

OK, so only seven days until my birthday, nine days until Christmas and what, 16 days until the New Year?

I still canít believe we got ALL of our Christmas cards done last night - a burst of productive activity spurred on by an Anna Nicole marathon and steaming cups of hot chocolate.

Letís all cheer on GB who did ALL of the holiday decorating around the house this year. AND started aforementioned burst of Christmas-card writing activity. AND made the hot chocolate.

AND put up with my cranky self all day yesterday as I slaved away on the term paper revision.

Tomorrow night, more Christmas shopping. Wednesday too, probably.

Hmmm, what else (sorry this is so scattered, itís hard playing diary catch-up).

Um, went to the doctor last week. Went much better than the last time I saw my doctor in Sept. 2001. That was when she suggested that getting pregnant would be the answer to all my problems - lectured me on how Iím getting older and past the prime of baby-making. So, when she walked into the exam room today, several months pregnant, I naturally got worried that sheíd be even more raring to go on all the baby talk. But surprisingly, she wasnít - other than approving of the fact that Iím not on the pill right now, advising me to start prenatal vitamins, the very minute we decide itís time to have a kid.

She checked out my lymph nodes and although they were/are indeed firm, she says that they should be nothing to worry about unless I start getting night sweats or start losing weight (umm, if i start losing weight, I may be too overjoyed to think about the possibility that I am Dying of Cancer). (Sidenote: a few weeks ago my dentist said the lymph nodes in my neck appeared to be enlarged and suggested I visit my doctor; mother - who is nurse - confirmed that they seemed swollen. Since I have not been sick recently but have been ultra-tired, she also suggested I visit the doctor. Naturally I immediately decided that I was Dying of Cancer). Just to be safe, however, she ordered some blood tests. A whole battery of them, in fact. I had to fast Thursday night, did the blood work on Friday morning. Should know officially by next week whether I am Dying of Cancer, have hepatitus or thyroid problems...

OK, I guess I should go work now. Damn, damn work, counting down til Friday evening!

11:30 am - 12.16.02

sounds: Felix da Housecat
words: leftover Sunday newspapers
i am: counting down the days


previously on ... - next time on ...

money can't buy happiness but it does buy small pieces of of serenity - 15.07.12 - 4:29 pm

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why the hell not? - 29.04.12 - 8:38 pm

Hear that lonesome whistle blow... - 02.04.12 - 5:18 pm

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