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Just got home (00:38 here), slightly tipsy, so - internetting and listening to the boy play a noisy computer game. Rather a typical Friday evening, really.
I keep sniffing my fingers: I just ate a clementine for dessert after dining on mom's spaghetti, one of the five most comforting foods I know, and now my fingernails are thick with pith and peel. I really shouldn't be typing with dirty fingers, but who's gonna complain that the keyboard smells citrusey fresh?
Hey, maybe I'll rip the DVD of my 1986-1987 video yearbook that I got as a Christmas gift. And then I'll post it up for everyone to laugh at. Except I don't know how to do that. I can barely make an audio CD.
I'm about to put on the released this week A New Hope Rifftrax. Along with it I have Black Butte Porter and chocolate covered Mint Milanos. (Note to self: don't go to the store after you have spent all day on the airplane)
I just threw several bags of garbage off the back porch and freaked out a cat. He was watching me from the sidewalk and took off like he was on fire when the first bag landed (we're on the third floor). One of the bags snagged on the wire fence and I had to clean it up. I carried down the bottles and cans.
I miss able-bodied jon. I never realized how much he lifted around here. Between laundry (which I had to roll down the stairs in a plastic bag and follow with the wheely bag -- where there's a will there's a way) and the groceries and the garbage and the usual cooking and cleaning and papers to grade, I'm exhausted, and I have to go back to work on Monday. I was so tired and feeling old and beaten, with my back hurting and the fucking heel of my left foot killing me, dragging the damn wheely bag now full of groceries up the stairs today and almost getting dragged back down with it, I burst out crying when I reached the landing. Poor jon had to stand there watching me bawl for five minutes.
Hey Pips, you guys make a list and when I'm back in the city (probably Monday, though this cold is a tough one to shake and I don't feel like traveling until it's gone) I'll come over and run some errands for you.
I just watched the Allstate Sugar Bowl and then took in the first half of a '91 Japanese samurai drama called "Heaven & Earth" while drinking mint tea with honey and lemon.
My nephews left today, so the house is quiet, just ma & pa & me. Finally I can sleep to my heart's (and lungs') content.
I just got back from my folks' house where we amused ourselves by eating my grandmother's notoriously strong bourbon balls, then using my sister's portable breathalyzer to measure the effects. One of those bad boys will take you from .00 to .08!
Got back from the movies a couple hours ago. Ate the very last Christmas cookie of 2008/09 (they were awesome) and popped in Only Angels Have Wings from my new Cary Grant DVD set, an awesome gift. Now plowing up one row and down the other of my daily internet haunts, sipping red wine, about to head to bed. And it's ONLY FRIDAY! I love the holidays. The total breakdown of normal scheduled life is wonderful.
Pips, we've lived in quite a few places on upper stories with no elevator, and that stuff is no joke - especially laundry when you don't have your own washer/dryer, because it's always a huge load. Unlike tossing your lights or darks into your own washer and turning it on when it's full, you collect your laundry until it weighs more than you do, and it's pretty miserable to deal with alone. I'd cry, too.
(In our last place in Thessaloniki, we lived on the 8th floor, and the elevator had a bad habit of breaking down every couple of months... always when I had groceries to haul up, it seemed. After a couple of times of this, I'd hide the bags in a ground floor utility room that we had acquired a key for, and go out and have drinks until someone had come to fix the lift. Sometimes it was more fun grocery shopping when Otis was being a bad boy.)
Mmm, I have to lug the wash up and down a long flight of stairs and it's usually two duffels full. The date for the elevator shutdown hasn't been called yet and I still haven't made my contingency plans.
Is the foot pain on the bottom near the arch? Hurts along that tendon when touched? It might be plantar fascitis.
I'm trawling for new music (my tastes have taken a weird left-turn into German Industrial for reasons I cannot fathom) and wishing I hadn't finished my chili truffles. I am too lazy (which is stupid, because they're a no-brainer) so I'll just sit here and whinge.
(In a microwave-proof bowl, heat 1 block bitter chocolate, add 1 small tin condensed milk and chili to taste. Mix and chill. Roll into tiny balls or use a melon baller and roll in powdered cocoa).
We're still shell shocked from New Years Eve. Too many mango daquiries in our home-made tiki bar and the neighbours all around us have been letting off fireworks since before Christmas Day.
My fridge came with 4Gb memory and runs Vista. However, I had to disable the UAC feature. Otherwise it would never let me in to get the milk.
OK, not really.
photo by splunge
photo by TheophileEscargot
photo by Kronos_to_Earth
photo by ethylene
