Poor Timing

Today I got my flu shot. They offer them at work once a year, you know, before flu season wipes us all out in a snotsoon. Tomorrow night is the Halloween party my roommate and I are throwing at our apartment. She is not going to be home tonight, which means I have to singlehandedly decorate our apartment. Depending on how the shot effects my arm depends on just how single-handed the decorating will be. I hope there aren't any heavy decorations, or else the floor will end up being the most fabulously decorated surface in our dwelling.

Snow White bit it, but this time it wasn't an apple

I have come to the conclusion that, if there is a bandaid on your hand and you (inevitably) must use the rest room, you will, upon washing your hands (assuming you are the least bit concerned with personal hygiene), dampen the bandaid, thus rendering it un-wearable as its adhesion and cut-protective powers are ruined.

You may try to push the bandaid down firmly, willing it to form a near-surgical bond with your skin, but, of course, all attempts will be futile.

My Snow White bandaid and I just struggled through this very scenario, and it was a harrowing experience indeed.

Oscar de la Rubbish bin: Grouchin' time!

Today is Friday. This is generally cause for celebration, but today I am less than celebratory. Don't get me wrong, I am pumped it's the end of the work week! But I am 89 years old, have started growing green fur and have taken up residence in a trash can.

I have a lot of work to do today. And more than anything I wanted to do nothing today. It's Friday. I feel that on Friday, it is my given right to do absolutely nothing, while passibly pretending to be doing something (kind of like every other day of the week, actually). Instead, I will procrastinate as usual, letting my boat fill up with water slowly, until I absolutely cannot procrastinate anymore and must frantically bail out with a thimble, trying to plug the now-gaping hole with a chewed wad of gum that just won't stick damnit! all in less than 60 seconds.

Next on my whiney-complainer list, are the plans some friends and I have been trying to make for weeks. It's been years since some of us have seen each other and we'd like very much to correct that. As such, we're supposed to get together tomorrow. The problem is, we don't actually have anything truly decided. We seem to be planning on meeting at my friend's house, going to the Roger Williams Zoo for their pumpkin fest type celebration, then hitting Providence hard with alcohol and funky-awesome dancing. But we haven't agreed on a time. I also had made a suggestion of filling the day beforehand with some festive fall activities: apple picking, pumpkin getting, baked goods baking, and pumpkin carving, but no one actually ever responded to it. Just ignored it, saying "I don't care what we do as long as we see each other!" and commenting on the cruelty of zoo's keeping wild animals in cages. Yes, I am nit-picky, but even a nice "Yeah, Sarah, that idea kinda sucks..." would've been better than them completely ignoring that I ever mentioned anything at all.

And what proves to me all the more I am a homebodied-cranky-pants, is that this indecision made me want to ignore them and just spend Saturday at home. I know, I'm not sure how I retain any friends either.

I like having plans, though. I like having things set in stone. I don't like it being the day before we're supposed to gather and having no idea what we're actually doing. I guess I'm not much of a wing-it person.

Oh, and I have no money. So the other part of all this is going out to dinner. Dinner, 12$ for the pumpkin spectacular, then potential cover charges and drinks, and, of course, pitching in dinero for parking and gas = an expensive night. Especially when all I really want to do is see my friends, not scream at them over loud house music.

Clearly demonstrating my completed morph into an old woman, minus the knitting and the hearing aids (though, somedays I sure could us one).