I've got that lefty curse where everything I do is flipped and awkwardly reversed.
This week was very busy. Consequently, I haven't gotten much sleep, which is probably why I feel like crashing into bed right about now.
Sunday, it started to cool off, so we were in a rush to finish planting. My dad also wanted to bring out the patio furniture and the like. Unfortunately, we were both in bad moods, so that didn't go so well. Normally, I can tolerate his bad moods and he can tolerate mine, but when we have them at the same time, it's like a nuclear explosion. My mom has no idea what to do when we're both like this; she doesn't know who to side with. I don't blame her because neither of us makes much sense when we're like this. Little things of no consequence to either of us end up making one or both of us pissed off. This time, I believe I called him a "motherfucking control freak" or something to that effect and he had some choice words about how I should grow up already. I cooled off in the house for about an hour and then came out and sat next to him on the steps. We more or less apologized and went back to work.
In the course of planting some burning bushes, I found more treasures from Farmer Fred. This time it was indoor-outdoor carpeting, an afghan, and contact paper. My mom figures they had to be buried in the late sixties or early seventies. Obviously, decomposition doesn't work as well as one would think. This is why the only garbage I send to the landfill are things that can easily decompose, like food products. Everything else gets recycled in some manner or another.
Monday was the Heroes season finale. I think the amount of times I screamed (okay, squealed) was quite embarrassing. I read somewhere that Peter and Nathan will be back next season though, so that is a relief.
On Tuesday, I met my dad after work at US Cellular Field to watch the Sox kick the As' asses. We have season tickets, but we rotate who gets to go to what game. This was my first game of the season and it was a beautiful night. Plus, my dad and I got along famously considering the blow up we had two days previously.
Awhile back, I think I mentioned that I contacted my best friend from high school. We've been trying to get together for about a month but between my work schedule and everything going on in her life, we could never set something up. Wednesday night, we finally met at a Starbucks near my house. I was fairly nervous because I haven't seen her since her wedding, I believe, which was eight years ago now. In that span of time, she's had two children and bought two houses. I didn't think we would have much in common, but she's become a lot more liberal since we last talked. We ended up chatting away until they kicked us out to close and then we stood by my car in the parking lot and talked some more. Part of me feels like we could be just as close as we ever were, but part of me gets nervous just thinking about it. I had to lie to her and turn all my exes into males because as liberal as she's become, I don't think she's quite ready to have a friend who is into girls. The strangest part of the evening was when I mentioned that the last warm place I had gone on vacation was to Tennessee (this was after she described her trip to the Bahamas). As it turns out, her dad's side of the family were all born and raised in Paris, Tennessee. She used to go there every year for Thanksgiving and she was like, "the only thing they have there is a Wal-Mart and a big fish fry, which I've never attended," and I was like, "I've been to that Wal-Mart!" Small world, eh?
Last night, I went to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie with my mom. She's been a fan of Johnny Depp going back forever and calls him her second-husband, in fact. I'll admit that most of the plot made me go, "err, but what?" but, alas, the swashbuckling and eyeliner won me over. If you go to see it, do stay past the credits.
Today, they let us out of work early, as they do before any major holiday. I felt very relieved when the VP came to tell me about it, because I had a panic attack at work. In fact, I'm still having one. They're not very bad panic attacks; I just keep having this feeling that I'm forgetting something or that something bad is going to happen. I've been especially paranoid about our next-door neighbors. I kept thinking they were trying to break into our garage, but they were really just hauling stuff out of their own into a van. What for, I have no idea. The woman that owns the home is patrolling for husband number two (or at least that's our explanation for why she constantly wears hot pants to mow the lawn) and her son is one of the most spoiled, annoying teenagers I have ever met. He and his friends apparently have nothing better to do than watch me whenever I enter or exit the house or work outside. And by watch, I mean stare at my chest. Sigh, boys.
Sunday, it started to cool off, so we were in a rush to finish planting. My dad also wanted to bring out the patio furniture and the like. Unfortunately, we were both in bad moods, so that didn't go so well. Normally, I can tolerate his bad moods and he can tolerate mine, but when we have them at the same time, it's like a nuclear explosion. My mom has no idea what to do when we're both like this; she doesn't know who to side with. I don't blame her because neither of us makes much sense when we're like this. Little things of no consequence to either of us end up making one or both of us pissed off. This time, I believe I called him a "motherfucking control freak" or something to that effect and he had some choice words about how I should grow up already. I cooled off in the house for about an hour and then came out and sat next to him on the steps. We more or less apologized and went back to work.
In the course of planting some burning bushes, I found more treasures from Farmer Fred. This time it was indoor-outdoor carpeting, an afghan, and contact paper. My mom figures they had to be buried in the late sixties or early seventies. Obviously, decomposition doesn't work as well as one would think. This is why the only garbage I send to the landfill are things that can easily decompose, like food products. Everything else gets recycled in some manner or another.
Monday was the Heroes season finale. I think the amount of times I screamed (okay, squealed) was quite embarrassing. I read somewhere that Peter and Nathan will be back next season though, so that is a relief.
On Tuesday, I met my dad after work at US Cellular Field to watch the Sox kick the As' asses. We have season tickets, but we rotate who gets to go to what game. This was my first game of the season and it was a beautiful night. Plus, my dad and I got along famously considering the blow up we had two days previously.
Awhile back, I think I mentioned that I contacted my best friend from high school. We've been trying to get together for about a month but between my work schedule and everything going on in her life, we could never set something up. Wednesday night, we finally met at a Starbucks near my house. I was fairly nervous because I haven't seen her since her wedding, I believe, which was eight years ago now. In that span of time, she's had two children and bought two houses. I didn't think we would have much in common, but she's become a lot more liberal since we last talked. We ended up chatting away until they kicked us out to close and then we stood by my car in the parking lot and talked some more. Part of me feels like we could be just as close as we ever were, but part of me gets nervous just thinking about it. I had to lie to her and turn all my exes into males because as liberal as she's become, I don't think she's quite ready to have a friend who is into girls. The strangest part of the evening was when I mentioned that the last warm place I had gone on vacation was to Tennessee (this was after she described her trip to the Bahamas). As it turns out, her dad's side of the family were all born and raised in Paris, Tennessee. She used to go there every year for Thanksgiving and she was like, "the only thing they have there is a Wal-Mart and a big fish fry, which I've never attended," and I was like, "I've been to that Wal-Mart!" Small world, eh?
Last night, I went to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie with my mom. She's been a fan of Johnny Depp going back forever and calls him her second-husband, in fact. I'll admit that most of the plot made me go, "err, but what?" but, alas, the swashbuckling and eyeliner won me over. If you go to see it, do stay past the credits.
Today, they let us out of work early, as they do before any major holiday. I felt very relieved when the VP came to tell me about it, because I had a panic attack at work. In fact, I'm still having one. They're not very bad panic attacks; I just keep having this feeling that I'm forgetting something or that something bad is going to happen. I've been especially paranoid about our next-door neighbors. I kept thinking they were trying to break into our garage, but they were really just hauling stuff out of their own into a van. What for, I have no idea. The woman that owns the home is patrolling for husband number two (or at least that's our explanation for why she constantly wears hot pants to mow the lawn) and her son is one of the most spoiled, annoying teenagers I have ever met. He and his friends apparently have nothing better to do than watch me whenever I enter or exit the house or work outside. And by watch, I mean stare at my chest. Sigh, boys.