Welcome to My Morning

I'm trying a new look today. It's called, "I woke up an hour late and didn't shower."

Anyone want to meet for lunch?

Okay, I'm not overly gross. I swear. I brushed my teeth and put on clean underwear. My hair isn't greasy and I don't stink (I don't think), so just COOL OUT. I was out the door in fifteen minutes - slightly annoyed with myself - but happy that I was going to be on time. On a Monday.

THEN. As I left the house, I almost tripped over a tiny baby sparrow just chilling in front of my doorstep. I moved him out of harm's way with a twig and then promptly called the Lady in tears worried that he was abandoned and had fallen from the nest and was going to die. She reassured me that the mother would fly down and feed him. "But MOM, he was so TINY!" She told me to calm down and go to work. Even though she really doesn't have time for my crap on a Monday morning, she still listens. She probably would have fed me if I had fallen from the nest, too.

Got to work and realized that my keys were on my desk chair. At home. AWESOME.

But seriously, I hate it when I don't have time to shower. Even in college, when people were running to class in pajama pants and wearing winter hats in March (to conceal the dreaded grease-head), I was showering even after studying until 4 a.m.

I know, I know. NERD.

In my four years of undergrad, I think that I skipped the shower once. Just once. It was pretty much the worst day for it, too, as I worked in the museum from 9-1, and then had class from 1-2, 2-3, and 4-5:30. Yummy!

(I wore my hat all day. Though it was January, so it's acceptable. Right?)

Also? I never once pulled an all-nighter. I just figured that there was a point where my brain would stop retaining all the crap I was trying to throw at it, so when I got tired, I went to sleep. I never failed an exam, so I guess it worked. I do think that I might have missed out on a basic college experience, but I am a cranky bitch without sleep, so it was probably for the best.

Really though, if anyone wants to have lunch, you don't have to worry... I shaved my legs yesterday.

So it's cool.

Tiny, but apparently not helpless.

Party Pooper

Either I'm getting old or I'm just a huge party pooper. It could be a combination of both -- I'm not sure.

Our housewarming party was Friday night. Thanks to the flex schedule (yay Federal Government!), it was my day off. I finally put books on shelves and nails in walls, but I had to run to my optometrist in Chinatown at nooner.

My eye hadn't cleared up completely, but she knew that I was impatient to get my new contacts, so she sent me home with one new pair. AWE. SOME. I have to wear them sparingly, but I was SO HAPPY to ditch the glasses that it just didn't matter.

I then hauled ass to the old apartment, packed up some random shit, drove to the ghetto Safeway for groceries, returned to the new apartment, and started on the food.

Here's where I'm questioning the age thing. I've always enjoyed being a hostess. I hold Thanksgiving each year, I love having movie nights, and my philosophy has always been, "the more the merrier." But when my roommate added her invites to the evite, I almost had a stroke. Fifty people?

Yikes.

I made several hors d'oeuvres for the housewarming: crackers with cucumber, the Lady's dill dip, and grape tomatoes; edamame; bruschetta and toast; and grilled citrus shrimp.

My roommate listened to my planned menu and said, "Huh. Sounds good."

(I should mention that she's four years younger than me. When I was her age, I was finishing up grad school. She works on the Hill and has a built-in clique.)

I wanted to serve wine and good beer and maybe one special mixed drink. She bought cans of Bud Light and the largest bottle of vodka I've ever seen (1.75 liters).

My friends showed up on time. Her friends arrived fashionably late. Two fashionable hours.

My friends left at midnight. Her friends were still showing up at midnight.

I was ready for bed at 11:00. Her friends were still going strong at 2:00.

I woke up sore and with a headache from two glasses of wine. She woke up early to go to a Kentucky Derby party and had no trace of a green face, even after waaaaay more alcohol and less sleep.

It's not so much that I'm a party pooper (though I constantly worried that we were being too loud), I just think that four years is a HUGE difference at this point in our lives. I'm far enough removed from my college experience that I don't consider myself a loser for staying in on a Saturday night, and to be completely honest, I was never much of a partier in college anyway.

(P.S. I love my roommate. She's awesome. I envy her ability to juggle a million things, drink like a rockstar, and pick up her friends drunk at a bar on a Sunday night.)

Time Off

Sweet Lord, it's been a really long week. Wow. My stubborn home computer resisted all attempts to join the information superhighway, and is more content just housing my pictures and being otherwise completely useless. Bitch.

However, a little break from blogging (and the internets) has been - dare I say it - nice. I've been much too exhausted to be creative, and having way too much on my plate has zapped my brain of all power. Well, that and the alcohol (see below).

In the days following last Saturday's move, I unpacked and organized, hung paintings and organized, cleaned and... well, organized. And even with all of the preparation, everything came together only ten minutes before our housewarming party on Friday night. Of course, I may not have been so rushed if it hadn't been for a little visit to Ella's on Wednesday night.

(Ella's is amazing, what with their specials and bartenders, and most of my drunken stories originate from one of their barstools. For example, after returning home from Ella's that night, I stumbled around for a while before deciding to get ready for bed. I attempted to wash my face and laid down on the bathroom floor instead. After deciding that the tiles were too cold, I laid down in the hallway instead and woke up there three hours later. I was hungover for the whole of Thursday. Awesome.)

And after helping Merrick and Gerald paint their newlywed apartment today, I am in need of some serious rest. So while I'd love to stay and chat... check ya later!

It's Comcastic!

Except... not.

I worked through lunch on Friday, just so I could leave early. This basically translates to = I am a complete moron and should have at least just gotten lunch and eaten it at my desk. But no.

Comcast was due to arrive between 4:00 and 7:00, so I left work at 3:30, which should have been way more than enough time to get there. Until I was ambushed by the Greenpeace people. I blew off the first one, mumbling that I was running late, but she must have been new as she gave up immediately. Not so for the seasoned veteran...

Veteran: "Hey! You look like someone who cares about the environment!"

Fantastic. Really? I do? Can you see it in my eyes?

Heather: "Yeah, I sure love birds. Gotta go."

Veteran: "I can see you're in a hurry, but can I tell you all about our issues?"

Sigh.

Heather: "If you can move fast... I've got an appointment."

Veteran: "Oh, great! I'll just walk with you!"

The fuck? I had to give the kid credit for his determination and support for his cause, but seriously, leave me the hell alone.

He hauled ass alongside me (I walk pretty fast) for about four blocks before giving up (he was out of breath when I finally stopped). I actually took his information in case I for some reason decided to join -- I wanted him to get his "commission." He worked hard!

I arrived at the new apartment at 3:55, and started to organize things - I wanted to get as many things as possible out of the way, as moving day was less than 24 hours away.

4:25 - Great! The apartment is all set. Moving everything in here tomorrow should be a breeze. I bet Comcast will show up any second!

5:00 - Hmmm. I sure am hungry. Who the hell skips lunch?

5:15 - That GD Greenpeace kid completely screwed my plan to stop for food on the way here. I hate him. And I hate the environment.

5:55 - Oh my gosh, I am so hungry I think that I might cry.

6:45 - First call to Comcast, asking for an estimated arrival time, as there were 15 minutes left in the window and I AM SO HUNGRY CRANKYFEST.

7:20 - WHY the HELL didn't we bring over the food last night? This fridge has nothing but a Brita. Hmm. I wonder if I could crack open the filter and eat those little things inside...

7:45 - Second call to Comcast. "We'll have him call you!" Uh huh, that's what you said the last time. Cockslaps!

8:15 - Knocking. It's about GD time.

8:17 - Comcast guy informs me that he doesn't have enough cable wire to run it to the back bedroom (my bedroom). How do you not have enough wire? Stock your truck, JACKASS.

8:30 - Still installing.

8:45 - Still installing. My phone rings, and it's the Comcast operator:

Operator: "Has the technician arrived?"

Heather: "Oh yes, he's here now, actually."

Operator: "Can I speak with him?"

Pause. What?

Heather: "Um, can't you just call him on his phone?"

Operator: "I've been trying to call him for three hours, and he isn't answering."

Ah, so that explains why I never got a call saying that he was RUNNING A LITTLE LATE. I handed him my phone, and after thirty seconds, he hands it back... covered in fat man sweat. GROSS.

To make a long story short (Too late.), we've got cable and teh internets. And I finally got to eat something. At 9:30.

Stupid Sexy Flanders!

On Monday, I got a great idea for a post, but knew that the picture would make or break it. I hurriedly found it and saved it.

And now? I can't GD remember what I was going to write about. I'm sure that it had something to do with, "It feels like I'm wearing nothing at all... nothing at all... nothing at all!" but I can't delve deep enough into the recesses of my brain to figure it out (and seriously, who would?).

So... nevermind. Here's the stupid picture. Make up your own story for what I was going to write about:


P.S. This episode is fantastic. "Use your brains to help us... your delicious brains!"

"Yay! Imagination Christmas!"

"Sweetie, if we didn't turn it down for the cops, what chance do you have?"

I am SO TIRED

But SO happy.

What a difference this change has made in my life. Watching my furniture leave the old place and find a new home was liberating. In those moments, I felt as if the negativity of the old house just melted away. It was such a crapshack - dirty, peeling, unsafe, cold, and dark. The new place is clean, inviting, warm, cozy, and comfortable. And in this case, like I was explaining to Awesome Old Roommate Jenny, "cozy" doesn't mean "tiny." Cozy means... well, all of that crap I just said.

Also? Bruises are sexy, right? Because I have about seventeen good ones from lifting and carrying and heaving and ho-ing (ha). And from bumping into things, of course. I'm really good at bumping into things. Like just now, when I was curling myself into my chair at work, I slammed my knee into the desk. I am brilliant! It's so pretty, I should take a picture.

Right. Pictures. I refuse to take any until my paintings are hung and the boxes are gone (that's right, Lady! You're just going to have to WAIT). Plus, I can't download any pictures until my computer gets all internetty, and that won't be until tonight.

I had help driving the Uhaul. Probably for the best, since I look like a thirteen-year-old joyrider when driving my mother's minivan. I didn't get us lost while driving from SW to the Hill, I didn't find myself humorously carrying too-heavy items, and I didn't trip or fall down. And I didn't drop anything out of a window, unlike a few years ago.*

So a huge, massive THANK YOU to everyone who helped us move - it went so quickly and so smoothly, that we were finished 30 minutes before the pizza was to be delivered (and thanks to Pizza Hut, for arriving five minutes early!). You guys are rock stars.

So it looks like a flawless move translates to = no funny stories. Sorry. The Comcast story is soon to follow, however. GD Comcast.


*When moving from my first apartment in Arlington, a one bedroom, to a two bedroom in the same complex, I was on my own. My soon-to-be roommate, a classmate I met at GWU, was home in Reno for the summer, and I took it upon myself to move most everything myself. Shane and Josh helped me move the heaviest furniture, and I was all set... until the first sweltering night in the new place when I realized that I really, really needed my window air conditioner. (Perhaps you see where this is going).

I figured, "I can do it myself! I don't need help!" I had it unscrewed and de-caulked, and held on tight as I tried to push the window away from the unit. The window stuck. I temporarily forgot about the VERY HEAVY THING and used both hands to wrench the window up. The air conditioner lurched out of the window, but was saved by its cord. I got what I thought was a good grip on the unit, unplugged the cord, and then watched it fall - in slow motion, it seemed - all the way to the ground.

It. Was. Amazing.

Support

Please help Emily raise money for healthy babies!

She'll be participating in the March of Dimes' Walk America campaign this Saturday, April 28. The deadline for donations is this Wednesday, April 25.

Even a small amount helps - please donate.

Hugs!

Unscathed

Back!

Exhausted, sore, and um... did I say exhausted?

But SO HAPPY.

Also? Comcast can SUCK IT.

Besides the suck, there will be entertaining stories to follow. Though the Comcast story is quite entertaining.

I have to "work" now.

A Short Intermission

The house is starting to echo.

The living room looks bizarre.

There is nothing on the walls.

I moved my computer last night and not having one for a while was strangely refreshing.

I'm so stressed that I've cried for no reason... about six times.

Bear with me during this move - it will all be over soon, and I'm sure that I'll have amazing stories (the Donut + Uhaul = Hilarity!).

A Maizey Blue Fresh Feeling

What?

I'm not saying that I chose this toothbrush solely because of the delicious Wolverine-y colors, because good oral hygiene is probably more important than school spirit, but as soon as I spotted it at CVS, my choice was clear.

GO BLUE!

I've heard it said that women take FOREVER to choose a greeting card. Not me. I'm in and out of the store in a flash, if I remember to buy one at all. But a toothbrush? I stood in front of those damn toothbrushes for TEN MINUTES yesterday and had three in my hand before I saw the super fly specimen above. I may have even been talking to myself about my difficult decision. But when I spotted that beautiful brush, I tossed those loser toothbrushes out of my sight, yoinked my new toothbrush off the shelf, and headed for the register.

And it's the best toothbrush I've ever had. Obviously.