I use up all your forgiveness. Only Bailey continually forgives me for calling him the wrong name (usually Buckley). He doesn't seem to mind. He doesn't even mind when I change the furniture around and he stumbles from one road block to the next (he is blind, remember).

My desk is overflowing with paper. It's coming in from all sides. A form for everything. But there doesn't seem to be one to tell me when it's time to go home. Work is actually interesting today. But I'm not sure when I'll be finished for....the day, anyway.

I broke one of my only rules in the Gish Likes A Guy book. I actually waited for some guy to give me a call, after I had called and left a message. I don't really know what I was thinking, other than the fact that I have precious little else to do, and that I kinda thought I could really dig him. All this, even though I kept insisting to everyone (including myself) that he was SO not my type (he really isn't). Nuts to that, though.

I shouldn't be down about it (and I guess I'm not really) because men wash up on the beach with startling regularity. Pilots, lawyers, scientists of all sorts. But they don't really hold my interest. I'm the one that likes to be caught off guard. Not the kind to watch someone come out of the water, with a resume in their hands, and all their good attributes that steam from my stereotypical mind of what pilots, lawyers and scientists should bear. yeah, something like that.

I'm really looking forward to quitting time today. I'm hoping a bunch of books I ordered are at the post office, and I am really looking forward to buying a new pack of socks. Cold feet and literature.

What more could a girl want?

Labels: 'North', Arctic, blah, men

I hate when I have food in the house and am hungry, but no appetite for whatever I've previously bought. I look in the cupboards and survey the canned goods (why do they call them 'goods'?) and dry pasta, along with the various spices and oils that I've gotten from family members.

Recently, I got a package sent from my dad which includes every spice I can think of (that I know). After the box was open and sitting in my office for awhile...I was hungry for roast chicken. My stomach really has a mind of it's own. I hate that. I want to be the boss of everything.

Here's a photo of a yellow iris that grows in a patch on my mother's property.

I haven't felt like updating lately. Not for lack of time, or want even...just no real drive. I was sad when I got out of bed this morning for no discernable reason. I brushed my teeth, staring at my reflection, running today's duties over in my mind. Even though I've come this far, it is always in the back of my mind that I'm still running. I just haven't ever really figured out what it is.
I've loaded a bunch of photos onto facebook and scoured my old photo-dumping page for ones that I might have missed when I switched over to Flickr.

I still sit here like a sullen child. The notes I write to myself are warnings that I should heed once I've read them, like this message will self-destruct...but I never really do. I just go along with what is happening.

I'm waiting for the movers to get a shake on so that my stuff gets moved here faster. I bought all manner of things, but I am mostly looking forward to the gigantic tv and surround sound so that when I watch documentaries on the History channel...my ears will really feel as though they are in the Rennasaince. I spell checked that word, and it still looks mispelled...Rennasaince.

In any event. I switched bedrooms the other day. I took photos of before and after, trying to maximise the space but I don't know if I got it quite right. When all was said and done, it looked like any other bedroom. Nothing special.

I guess it looked better in my head.

Labels: blah, Gish, home improvement