I am so overwhelmed with moving. I tend to do this to myself every time, pushing things until the last minute and not taking enough time off to do it sanely. Per usual, I'm doing it alone, not very good at delegating or asking for help.
The physical exhaustion of doing it is one thing. But now I'm layering on top of that the emotional stress of saying goodbye to people I love. And I value my people so deeply, I'm so sentimental, that it's really, really hard for me to do it. I just had a weekend full of dramatic goodbyes- saying goodbye to someone I'd had an intimate relationship with, and also to a huge group of friends at a wedding, with the bride being my own good friend. I feel like my default is to cry right now.
I'm also feeling unsettled by the house in state of disarray. It's adding another layer to things to have me, very defined by and in tune with my environment, exhausted and stressed and in a torn-up home and no new one to look forward to.
I'm trying to envision the endless awesome options awaiting me, but right now I just want to draw all my people in close to me and hug them. Or cry some more and go to sleep.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
things i have learned so far in packing for this move
a series of observations
- I have (had) enough clothes to fill twelve to eighteen 18-gallon Rubbermaids.
- I have nearly the same amount of cat hair tumbleweeds rolling around my closets and corners.
- Cats will recoil in horror and then flee upon encountering orange extract as though you were coming at them with hatchets and tear gas.
- No one needs or wants CD racks anymore.
- Craigslist is a complete crapshoot, both on the selling and searching ends. You are likely to encounter both morons and a-holes.
- I will never own a white shag rug again. Not a white rug, not a shag rug. I suggest anyone who has pets, or actually lives in their home doesn't either. Crumbs and hair will impregnate the depths of the pile if you do, and gross you out to all extent when you go to spend a couple painful hours vacuuming on hands and knees.
- No matter how many grocery/shopping bags one accrues over their stay in a home, they will use them all up moving.
- I hoard scented tea lights, fancy soap, and almond extract.
- A force larger than myself prevents me from getting rid of my university notes and textbooks, and design school art supplies.
- 60% of my wardrobe is black.
- By the looks of my catalogs of museum stubs, old newspaper clippings, and concert tickets, someday I will have the largest collection of scrapbooks one adult ever amassed.
- Kind and thoughtful friends and family are invaluable.
- Late night television did not cease to exist after college when I ceased to be able to stay up that late.
- Manually removing cat hair from a hundred balls of stockings after cats have nested in the storage basket all summer is one of the least pleasant tasks ever.
- I actually despise all 26 boxes of my books.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
little things
I'm packing and liquidating my apartment, bit by bit every evening. I'm downsizing; sending some stuff to charity and other things to the recycling bin.
I've gotten to this place, a life full of vintage postcards and ticket stubs and playbills and birthday cards, by attaching memories to everything. Even mugs I used in my first apartment in college remind me of drinking Oregon Chai late at night in front of Conan O'Brien when I used to be able to accommodate the Late Night.
Purging physical and emotional baggage is a great and important exercise, but man, it's challenging for the sentimental. It's great for clearing the mind in the end, but right now my mind is just strained from all the moving-related hoops. Time for bed.
I've gotten to this place, a life full of vintage postcards and ticket stubs and playbills and birthday cards, by attaching memories to everything. Even mugs I used in my first apartment in college remind me of drinking Oregon Chai late at night in front of Conan O'Brien when I used to be able to accommodate the Late Night.
Purging physical and emotional baggage is a great and important exercise, but man, it's challenging for the sentimental. It's great for clearing the mind in the end, but right now my mind is just strained from all the moving-related hoops. Time for bed.
dachshund
an observation
Yes, I have cats, but I definitely think puppies are cute. Also, I normally am not a big dachshund fan- something about their body proportions feel unnatural to me, like an old, overweight man who has to have his jeans altered shorter due to his disproportionate barrel-gut-to-fred-flinstone-legs-relationship.
However, I was waiting at the bus stop this fine autumn morning (we're having a good season, so crisp and sunny and colorful), and a couple walked up with a tiny dachshund puppy on a leash. It was so small, it was gerbil-sized. It was so incredibly cute.
I think somehow the combination of the tiny, near-legless body, with the large, youthful-and-not-yet-too-pointy head, and also its unbounded baby energy, was what made it so cute. It was like a little cartoon. I just wanted it to raise its flappy little ears and flutter around the bus shelter.
Yes, I have cats, but I definitely think puppies are cute. Also, I normally am not a big dachshund fan- something about their body proportions feel unnatural to me, like an old, overweight man who has to have his jeans altered shorter due to his disproportionate barrel-gut-to-fred-flinstone-legs-relationship.
However, I was waiting at the bus stop this fine autumn morning (we're having a good season, so crisp and sunny and colorful), and a couple walked up with a tiny dachshund puppy on a leash. It was so small, it was gerbil-sized. It was so incredibly cute.
I think somehow the combination of the tiny, near-legless body, with the large, youthful-and-not-yet-too-pointy head, and also its unbounded baby energy, was what made it so cute. It was like a little cartoon. I just wanted it to raise its flappy little ears and flutter around the bus shelter.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
the beginning of the end
I've been getting together with friends a lot the past week- starting to say goodbye. It's hard, and I think it didn't actually set in until recently that I have so little time left.
I've been in serious denial about moving my stuff out. The liquidation of eight years' worth of Seattle possessions, enough to densely fill a decently-sized one-bedroom apartment, is no small or even remotely pleasant task, and I've been totally putting it off. There's something very depressing to me about deconstructing my home. My environment, perhaps as I'm a designer, I dunno, has always been quite important to my happiness, and I have a very hard time breaking down and tearing apart my own territory. I always tend to leave it until the last minute, stressing out and staying up late to finish packing at the end, so I don't have to live in a war-zone of half-packed house any longer than is imperative.
I think it's especially hard this time, given the extremity of the move. I'm not going to any definite domestic environs in NYC initially- no new personal space to look forward to as of yet. I'll be sleeping at friends' places until I find my own, and almost all of my Seattle apartment contents will be dispersed via friends and craigslist or go into storage here :( . I'm also trying to enjoy my last moments in Seattle and have been prioritizing social time over practical time. That's a major procrastination tool. Every night when I come home, most often late and tipsy, I look at the apartment and gulp a little.
I started going through things this weekend and feel a little better having started, but of course only after you open the can of worms do you realize the nature of its contents. Yikes. I got rid of a few boxes of books and cds and christmas decorations at my mother's house when I headed down to the going-away party she threw me this weekend, but it's only the very beginning and I know I'm going to be pulling some late nights in the coming week.
So if anyone wants to help pack glassware, or needs a good houseplant, or likes the challenge of coaching a distractable individual to organize, prioritize, and complete tasks, dial me. I'll be sitting on the hardwood floor in my sweats shuffling design magazines and ramekins around until 2 am every night.
I've been in serious denial about moving my stuff out. The liquidation of eight years' worth of Seattle possessions, enough to densely fill a decently-sized one-bedroom apartment, is no small or even remotely pleasant task, and I've been totally putting it off. There's something very depressing to me about deconstructing my home. My environment, perhaps as I'm a designer, I dunno, has always been quite important to my happiness, and I have a very hard time breaking down and tearing apart my own territory. I always tend to leave it until the last minute, stressing out and staying up late to finish packing at the end, so I don't have to live in a war-zone of half-packed house any longer than is imperative.
I think it's especially hard this time, given the extremity of the move. I'm not going to any definite domestic environs in NYC initially- no new personal space to look forward to as of yet. I'll be sleeping at friends' places until I find my own, and almost all of my Seattle apartment contents will be dispersed via friends and craigslist or go into storage here :( . I'm also trying to enjoy my last moments in Seattle and have been prioritizing social time over practical time. That's a major procrastination tool. Every night when I come home, most often late and tipsy, I look at the apartment and gulp a little.
I started going through things this weekend and feel a little better having started, but of course only after you open the can of worms do you realize the nature of its contents. Yikes. I got rid of a few boxes of books and cds and christmas decorations at my mother's house when I headed down to the going-away party she threw me this weekend, but it's only the very beginning and I know I'm going to be pulling some late nights in the coming week.
So if anyone wants to help pack glassware, or needs a good houseplant, or likes the challenge of coaching a distractable individual to organize, prioritize, and complete tasks, dial me. I'll be sitting on the hardwood floor in my sweats shuffling design magazines and ramekins around until 2 am every night.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
crept in on little cat's feet
The plan tonight was to go home after a quick stint at the gym and start packing (which I've been saying I'll do every night for quite a few days now). Instead it's past eleven and I'm just getting home after taking a detour from the athletic club to Capitol Hill for dinner and drinks (oops).
The result was me spending way more time than planned outside traipsing about the city this evening. In a short skirt, thin calf-length leggings, tiny ballet flats and a light jacket, I am downright amazed at how cold it is out there; I was cursing... well, I'm frankly not sure who I should have been cursing, but I was definitely cursing on the way home between busses and doors. It made me think of the Sandburg quote I mentioned above- granted it refers to fog, but the cold weather has done the same: crept in quietly when we weren't looking. A major briskness has taken over Seattle in the past two weeks. I don't even know where my cold-weather clothes are.
Leaving the Seattle Athletic Club, I detoured my usual route north through Belltown toward Queen Anne and went south through the market to catch a bus up to Capitol Hill. There is something magical, and totally different, about The Market in its off-time. And at this time, a weeknight past dark, when it's late enough to have shut down but not late enough to be still, it had the great quality that piazzas all over Italy have late in the evening... the lazy meanderings of people passing by and through, gazing about places meant to be full with people. The Market, like Campo de Fiori, the Spanish Steps, or Piazza Navona in Rome, seems, late at night, to be begging to be visited- aglow with light, open and waiting for visitors to flood back and bring it to back to life. It's like it's smiling its brightest smile to draw people in again. Lights glow above, and from the edges with people's condo and apartment homes, and restaurants. Neon signs beckon as well, both in the alleys and streets, and within the turn-of-the-century market stalls and walkways, gutted for the night down to the white walls, sterile steel counters, and nightly pressure-washed rust-brown tile floor. You don't notice the beautifully repetitive green columns and industrial pendant lights until you clear the place down to its skeleton.
As I walked under the overhangs of the food vendors lining the street (soundtrack- Fleet Foxes, Mykonos), passing beneath sign after hanging sign, the hectic, colorful nature that characterizes our views of the market at day gave way to the quiet rhythm of the place at night- rows of columns; light after hanging light; globe lights studding moulding like neverending dressing-room vanities; signs lined up like pinball gates; feet passing over cobbles.
On my way up to the market, I'd stopped to marvel at the sunset over Elliot Bay and the Olympics. Now, plugged into the moment with music and solitude, I noticed the blur around a streetlight that accompanies cold, dewey nights and I was happy despite the cold. Makes for a nice memory.
The result was me spending way more time than planned outside traipsing about the city this evening. In a short skirt, thin calf-length leggings, tiny ballet flats and a light jacket, I am downright amazed at how cold it is out there; I was cursing... well, I'm frankly not sure who I should have been cursing, but I was definitely cursing on the way home between busses and doors. It made me think of the Sandburg quote I mentioned above- granted it refers to fog, but the cold weather has done the same: crept in quietly when we weren't looking. A major briskness has taken over Seattle in the past two weeks. I don't even know where my cold-weather clothes are.
Leaving the Seattle Athletic Club, I detoured my usual route north through Belltown toward Queen Anne and went south through the market to catch a bus up to Capitol Hill. There is something magical, and totally different, about The Market in its off-time. And at this time, a weeknight past dark, when it's late enough to have shut down but not late enough to be still, it had the great quality that piazzas all over Italy have late in the evening... the lazy meanderings of people passing by and through, gazing about places meant to be full with people. The Market, like Campo de Fiori, the Spanish Steps, or Piazza Navona in Rome, seems, late at night, to be begging to be visited- aglow with light, open and waiting for visitors to flood back and bring it to back to life. It's like it's smiling its brightest smile to draw people in again. Lights glow above, and from the edges with people's condo and apartment homes, and restaurants. Neon signs beckon as well, both in the alleys and streets, and within the turn-of-the-century market stalls and walkways, gutted for the night down to the white walls, sterile steel counters, and nightly pressure-washed rust-brown tile floor. You don't notice the beautifully repetitive green columns and industrial pendant lights until you clear the place down to its skeleton.
As I walked under the overhangs of the food vendors lining the street (soundtrack- Fleet Foxes, Mykonos), passing beneath sign after hanging sign, the hectic, colorful nature that characterizes our views of the market at day gave way to the quiet rhythm of the place at night- rows of columns; light after hanging light; globe lights studding moulding like neverending dressing-room vanities; signs lined up like pinball gates; feet passing over cobbles.
On my way up to the market, I'd stopped to marvel at the sunset over Elliot Bay and the Olympics. Now, plugged into the moment with music and solitude, I noticed the blur around a streetlight that accompanies cold, dewey nights and I was happy despite the cold. Makes for a nice memory.
happiness is...
...there are many corny bookmarks and bumpers out there. and many generally horrible ones, as well. but today i had a moment when i was thinking something to the effect of "happiness is..."
happiness is having lots of people who care about you gathered around.
In this time as I am preparing to move, I am orchestrating getting together with many different sets of friends, and beginning to say goodbye. And though it is kind of stressful, trying to take care of things (and extensively procrastinate) and see everyone, it is making me very happy.
As the weather is cooling, and leaves fall, and we are baking and steeping spicy things, having friends gather inside to appreciate spending time together... it's lovely. It's lovely and flattering and a warm feeling to have people you love come together to remind you they love you too. It's making me sentimental, all of the "you'll be missed" comments I'm getting. Because I've been thinking about how much I'll miss everyone, too, and reciprocation is nice.
Traveler though I may be/ aspire to be, I have avoided moving out of Seattle for many years now because I value the place, and my loved ones here, too much. I finally felt I was in the right spot to leave them for a while; but I think we generally take for granted our support systems. There is nothing that makes me happier than spending time with people I enjoy in a relaxed, intimate setting. Give me a few drinks, good music, and a good conversation with friends over any organized activity any day.
I've been in Seattle eight years now, and have amassed a huge web of people, I'm realizing. I almost feel like a socialite as I'm attempting to organize meeting up before I go in two weeks. I have quite a few spheres of friends, between hometown and university and work and former coworkers and neighbors, etc... and they are truly all important to me. It's such a blessing, really, to have so many people who have been there, in fun and even not-fun times, and still want to be there.
What's keeping me from losing it, in saying all these goodbyes, is the concept that I'll be back. I'll be back a couple of times a year to visit, and conceptually to live again in a few years. Also helpful is that I have a network already where I'm headed of people I'm close to. And I like to live life with fond memories floating about, in black and white as though filmed with a filter for a drama, with a soundtrack of my favorite eclectic music.
The moving is exciting every time I think about it, but the moving on makes me somewhat melancholy. I hope that everyone knows how much I value them, and that I welcome them to visit or come back into my life anytime, anywhere, whether you've been my friend for ten years or ten weeks.
And maybe I'll see you at Christmas. :)
happiness is having lots of people who care about you gathered around.
In this time as I am preparing to move, I am orchestrating getting together with many different sets of friends, and beginning to say goodbye. And though it is kind of stressful, trying to take care of things (and extensively procrastinate) and see everyone, it is making me very happy.
As the weather is cooling, and leaves fall, and we are baking and steeping spicy things, having friends gather inside to appreciate spending time together... it's lovely. It's lovely and flattering and a warm feeling to have people you love come together to remind you they love you too. It's making me sentimental, all of the "you'll be missed" comments I'm getting. Because I've been thinking about how much I'll miss everyone, too, and reciprocation is nice.
Traveler though I may be/ aspire to be, I have avoided moving out of Seattle for many years now because I value the place, and my loved ones here, too much. I finally felt I was in the right spot to leave them for a while; but I think we generally take for granted our support systems. There is nothing that makes me happier than spending time with people I enjoy in a relaxed, intimate setting. Give me a few drinks, good music, and a good conversation with friends over any organized activity any day.
I've been in Seattle eight years now, and have amassed a huge web of people, I'm realizing. I almost feel like a socialite as I'm attempting to organize meeting up before I go in two weeks. I have quite a few spheres of friends, between hometown and university and work and former coworkers and neighbors, etc... and they are truly all important to me. It's such a blessing, really, to have so many people who have been there, in fun and even not-fun times, and still want to be there.
What's keeping me from losing it, in saying all these goodbyes, is the concept that I'll be back. I'll be back a couple of times a year to visit, and conceptually to live again in a few years. Also helpful is that I have a network already where I'm headed of people I'm close to. And I like to live life with fond memories floating about, in black and white as though filmed with a filter for a drama, with a soundtrack of my favorite eclectic music.
The moving is exciting every time I think about it, but the moving on makes me somewhat melancholy. I hope that everyone knows how much I value them, and that I welcome them to visit or come back into my life anytime, anywhere, whether you've been my friend for ten years or ten weeks.
And maybe I'll see you at Christmas. :)
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Sarkozy and Merkel in Paris
Scenario 1
Nicolas: Angela, you should have seen this carp my people caught me off the coast of Brittany. I saw it with my own eyes from the deck. I almost had to put down my Beaujolais Grand Cru and go down and have a look. My chef prepared it in a beurre blanc....
Angela: But you wouldn't beleive this trout I caught in Bayern; it was at least this big... I had a hard time wrestling it in and I lost it before I could knock it out.
Scenario 2
Nicolas: We need so much money to get ourselves out of this foutu bordel. Maybe even this much.
Angela: Ach, no, it's more like this much. We're screwed.
Scenario 3
Nicolas: Don't even try and say you didn't kiss Bush's ass all the way into this mess.
Angela: Like you didn't bring him a wheel of Beaufort this big when you visited him at Kennebunkport. Don't start with me, Sarkozy.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
done and done
I'm downright elated... I've ironed out the details of my transfer, and I've got a decent salary, with moving expenses paid. I'm exactly three weeks from my departure to NYC.
I was pretty freaked out, navigating the attempt at a counter-offer, but it turned out well in the end after two days of anxious waiting. I'm a pleaser who wants to keep everyone happy and tends to undervalue themself, so one can imagine how uncomfortable I was trying to pretend to drive a hard/smooth business line. But I did my research and pushed myself, and it paid off, and I feel all the much stronger. Not that I got some incredibly lucrative offer, but it's a good deal for the modestly-compensated industry of architecture. Ladies, they say that less than ten percent of us attempt to negotiate salary, whereas they estimate that two-thirds of men do. Know what you're worth! Ask for it!
I've spent all evening reveling with friends and now should do some dishes and sleep. At midnight. But with the hours I've been keeping lately, this shouldn't come as surprising.
Onward and upward! I'm doing a little dance on my way to the dish soap.
I was pretty freaked out, navigating the attempt at a counter-offer, but it turned out well in the end after two days of anxious waiting. I'm a pleaser who wants to keep everyone happy and tends to undervalue themself, so one can imagine how uncomfortable I was trying to pretend to drive a hard/smooth business line. But I did my research and pushed myself, and it paid off, and I feel all the much stronger. Not that I got some incredibly lucrative offer, but it's a good deal for the modestly-compensated industry of architecture. Ladies, they say that less than ten percent of us attempt to negotiate salary, whereas they estimate that two-thirds of men do. Know what you're worth! Ask for it!
I've spent all evening reveling with friends and now should do some dishes and sleep. At midnight. But with the hours I've been keeping lately, this shouldn't come as surprising.
Onward and upward! I'm doing a little dance on my way to the dish soap.
adult imposters
A good friend of mine and I were talking recently when we both admitted that in some respects, our lives feel like a sham. Mid-twenties and learning the ropes of adulthood, we were sitting chatting over cocktails, talking about our place in the world. She's getting married, I'm making a big life and career move, and we had gone shopping for work clothes. We were talking about tailored clothes, and all of a sudden we both came to the conclusion that we still feel like children going through the motions that seem to be right for adults, and that is required by our lives to get along as we are expected.We are sloppy, quirky fools just trying to keep it together enough to not be found out by everyone around us... the truth being that we are shams. Runny-nosed, sloppy-penmanshipped, spaghetti-on-your-chin imposters of grown-ups. But I guess maybe that's what everyone is; just getting along in this world for the first time? Some of us have varying degrees of external grace, perhaps...and confidence. With confidence, you can probably make spaghetti sauce look good.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
are you on my side?
my absolute favorite song of the moment. why did it take me so long to listen to much Rogue Wave?love 'em.
Monday, October 6, 2008
autumn
When summer took its leave, I was initially quite sad. I was a summer baby; I love summer. Who doesn't, though, really?
We've had a week of consistently grey weather now, however, and I'm taking to it again. A very autumnal windstorm passed through on Saturday (no rain, with leaves flying all directions, and comical wind-whipped trees resisting the gusts). It's raining now, and there's something nice and cozy about all of this.
This is the weather that inspires introspection and cynicism, and heavy consumption of heavy coffee or alcoholic beverages to pass the time spent taking shelter. It also provides validation to put on a scarf, head inside, light a spicy candle, make a hot drink, and watch a movie. If you're really on a roll, you can put on Nat King Cole and have a warm cookie.
Leaves are red and orange and tumbling over the threshold on the way back in from outside, and I don't mind it or the drizzle...yet. I might be singing a different song though when I have to move in this in a few weeks, but I'll remain optimistic as long as I can.
We've had a week of consistently grey weather now, however, and I'm taking to it again. A very autumnal windstorm passed through on Saturday (no rain, with leaves flying all directions, and comical wind-whipped trees resisting the gusts). It's raining now, and there's something nice and cozy about all of this.
This is the weather that inspires introspection and cynicism, and heavy consumption of heavy coffee or alcoholic beverages to pass the time spent taking shelter. It also provides validation to put on a scarf, head inside, light a spicy candle, make a hot drink, and watch a movie. If you're really on a roll, you can put on Nat King Cole and have a warm cookie.
Leaves are red and orange and tumbling over the threshold on the way back in from outside, and I don't mind it or the drizzle...yet. I might be singing a different song though when I have to move in this in a few weeks, but I'll remain optimistic as long as I can.
nyc minus 23 days
aka No Sleep Till Brooklyn...
I am beginning to realize that I have no idea how I'm going to liquidate my Seattle existence in 23 days, of which all of my weekends until then are already partly spoken-for by a friend's wedding preparations. Yikes.
I have a one-bedroom apartment thick with eight years of life in this city, and a broken automobile. Double yikes.
My relationships with the recycling bin, the Goodwill, and my parents' basements are going to get a little tighter.
I also have two cats which have no idea what's coming... oh man. Here goes!
I am beginning to realize that I have no idea how I'm going to liquidate my Seattle existence in 23 days, of which all of my weekends until then are already partly spoken-for by a friend's wedding preparations. Yikes.I have a one-bedroom apartment thick with eight years of life in this city, and a broken automobile. Double yikes.
My relationships with the recycling bin, the Goodwill, and my parents' basements are going to get a little tighter.
I also have two cats which have no idea what's coming... oh man. Here goes!
Friday, October 3, 2008
weirdest day ever
or, "excuse me, is this your life? because it doesn't look like mine."
today, I:
Ain't no thang.
today, I:
- Woke up really late, at ten after nine.
- Woke up to gross, grey rain after many warm, sunny days.
- Got a call at work offering me a potentially perfect job in our New York office.
- Was asked to pose as a community planner at a planning commission meeting in Puyallup by my boss and coworker, as they couldn't attend.
- Attended said meeting, which took me two hours in traffic to arrive at, and ended up being a 4-hour, disastrous stress-fest in which everyone was angry and no one got anything done, and my company's work wasn't even presented due to four hours of heated discussion of Transfer of Development rights and property equity, of which I know next to nothing about.
- Made the hour-long drive back in 40 minutes, though in a delirious state of low blood sugar due to only eating a small sandwich at lunch. Due to lack of options, purchased McDonald's food on Broad across the street from the Seattle Center at the end of my drive.
- Actually ate McDonald's food.
- Workday ended at 11pm.
Ain't no thang.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
party on the weeknight
...oftentimes regrettable after the party is over.
this guy I don't know very well, a nice guy who I don't feel comfortable being my characteristically outspoken self toward, made me a drink, to be nice...with gin, as gin is my favorite poison, and it included an energy drink. I don't do energy drinks, but didn't want to be a douche. So I drank it.
And now I have a science experiment in my stomach, I think. The kind that involves baking soda and vinegar, and a large misshapen doughy mass to brew it... the doughy mass being me in this case. And I've an annual strategic planning session to attend and participate in at work tomorrow. Whee!
On a completely unrelated note, I had a moment of realization on the way home tonight that pretty much everyone in the world wears some type of shoes. We are all united by shoes. I'm not sure what other non-essential-to-survival, tangible, everyday things people of the world might have in common. That kind of amazed me. No drugs involved.
this guy I don't know very well, a nice guy who I don't feel comfortable being my characteristically outspoken self toward, made me a drink, to be nice...with gin, as gin is my favorite poison, and it included an energy drink. I don't do energy drinks, but didn't want to be a douche. So I drank it.
And now I have a science experiment in my stomach, I think. The kind that involves baking soda and vinegar, and a large misshapen doughy mass to brew it... the doughy mass being me in this case. And I've an annual strategic planning session to attend and participate in at work tomorrow. Whee!
On a completely unrelated note, I had a moment of realization on the way home tonight that pretty much everyone in the world wears some type of shoes. We are all united by shoes. I'm not sure what other non-essential-to-survival, tangible, everyday things people of the world might have in common. That kind of amazed me. No drugs involved.
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