マーイペス, ちゃ。
Meeeeeeeeeeg. You know better than to try to sing along with this song after drinking coffee. Also, way to give up on kicking the caffeine habit, I notice you're back up to two cups in the morning. Whatevs, sexy new machine deserves usage. Ganbarimasu.
Actually, this would be a fine time to scour Megaupload for more Renaissance albums. I've been longing to hear "On the Frontier" for a while now. Even if Janis Joplin wins my heart and makes me forget about Annie Haslom whenever she comes on. "Roadblock," ajfhsgdhs. Polar opposites, those two women, and I love them both immensely. Then again....by all rights, I SHOULD be off grading papers and trying to slit my wrists with the papers, right now.
....Ahahahaha, the above paragraphs were written on Thursday. Fail, I has it.
What even happened on Thursday? ...I...have no recollection. It was wiped from my brain by the TRAUMA OF FRIDAY.
So...I whine and moan about this sort of thing a lot, but seriously, some people are just too stupid to live. I've ranted dozens of times about how I'm the only one who cleans. Most of these rants revolve around the bathroom. I am inches from buying a new doorknob and replacing it and keeping the only key on a chain around my neck.
Thursday night, HM!K was ill. She spent a great amount of time waking me up, because I am blessed with the room across from the bathroom. I slept and gave it no thought, because I'm not her mother. I spent the morning lolling around and trying to talk myself into grading those assignments that had been staring at me all week. Finally in the afternoon I ventured in to brush my teeth. And my feet. Stuck. To. The. Floor. And then I glanced to the side and realized that, no, I hadn't heard the toilet flush all night so HM!K was being sick in the sink and I know for a fact that the Clorox spray had not budged a millimeter from where I placed it the day before after wiping down the toilet seat because aksjdfhgskh okay not going there.
My skin crawled for ten minutes after I got out of there. I wanted to be sick. My mother sent me an instant message to which I said SEND ME A CARE PACKAGE. SEND BLEACH AND A FLAMETHROWER. I whined at number of people, because what requires making the bathroom floor sticky does not compute?! Finally I decided that I needed to get the hell out of the house before I went in with a match. I grabbed those assignments and my purse and spent some time in the cafe on the other side of the neighborhood, then went grocery shopping.
When I got back with my groceries, I stowed them away in appropriate locations, rolled up my jeans, turned on some battle music (">:|" playlist on FULL VOLUME, yo), grabbed the sponges and the Comet and my flip flops and scrubbed that fucking bathroom until I stopped feeling things crawl on my skin. I'm serious. I scrubbed the shower three times. I mopped the floor twice. I Cloroxed the sink four times and the toilet two. I took the nasty who-knows-how-old bathmat down to shake it out on the balcony and then decided to just leave it there until I could gather the courage to touch it again to throw it out, because de-grossing it was just not worth the effort. I may or may not have screamed things like "DO NOT WANT TO KNOW" and "NOT THINKING ABOUT IT. NOT. THINKING!!" during the venture.
When the floor dried I took a freaking shower, because it was clean and it was MINE.
HM!S got home at one in the morning, and forgot his keys again so he actually had to call me and get me out of bed. But he stood in the hallway and smelled the disinfectant and said, "Thank you...for doing...the...voodoo that...you...do" to which I said, "...HM!S, go to bed" and he said, "...'kay."
Saturday was kind of epic, because I woke up at 10 and realized at 11 that I needed to go to the bank, which I thought closed at 12 (I was wrong, but I would have been fine anyway \o/). Since I was already out and about, I decided to go into the city and troll TJ Maxx for a new bag (my ancient black one has days left to live and the Red Leather Monstrosity I bought this summer to replace it is already dead). Once I was downtown, I recalled a conversation with my mother about her willingness to order interview shoes for me online if I could tell her the size I needed. So I stepped into Aldo to check my memory of size for them, and discovered that the store was having "an EXTRA 50% off!" sale because apparently it's closing soon. Um...I now have two pairs of heels that make my flat feet want to cry but are super cute and acceptable professional wear and I paid $52 total instead of $160. I'm sorry, bank account, but it was a necessary expenditure! D:
I had no luck finding a black satchel that would have been appropriate that was anything approaching my price range ($80-$150 is WAY more than I will ever spend on a bag, okay!), but I found a slightly-smaller-than-ideal-but-usable brown Nine West one that would work with the brown heels. (I called my mother to say "forget about the shoes we talked about" and whine about bags at her, and she's since found me a black one, so huzzah.) I headed home. It was...twoish.
It was four in the afternoon when HM!K poked her head into my room. "I just wanted to let you know that I spilled some stuff in the bathroom Friday morning."
...What was it? "Hair product, you know that stuff that I use--" No, I don't, because I a) value my hair and don't put goop in it and b) don't go through your stuff. "Well, I cleaned it all up." Then why did my feet stick to the floor. "Your feet stuck to the floor?" ...Yes. "I cleaned it all up with the toilet paper." ...................................(this is where I had to remind myself again that blood is damning forensic evidence) "I was in a hurry, but I just wanted to let you guys know." DON'T YOU THINK IT WOULD HAVE BEEN GOOD TO LET ME KNOW YESTERDAY, BEFORE I FREAKED THE HELL OUT? "...???"
...It should come as unsurprising to find out that HM!S automatically assumes I'm mad at her, now. I finally set about grading this afternoon so I switched my gchat status to "LET THE GNASHING OF TEETH COMMENCE" and he sent, "...what did she do NOW?"
[[Speaking of grading, "WALL OF SOUND" STILL DOES NOT EQUAL "BRILL BUILDING SOUND". I distinctly recall ranting about this last year, too! lsdkjfhkdfjdfhks I got to the very last paper today and saw "in relation to Phil Spector's 'Wall of Sound,' the Brill Building producers blahblahblah" and honest to god I underlined it and drew a :D! and then wrote "I would give you bonus points for this distinction if I could, thank you!" underneath the kid's answers. Just when you lose faith in humanity ("Which city did the 1960s counterculture movement begin in?" "TEXAS"), one person is all it takes to heal the soul. &hearts I hate TAing this course so freaking much. And I'm going to spend class tomorrow going through regrading things because the professor finally responded an hour AFTER I'd finished grading to a question I emailed her three days ago.]]
To return to the chronological narrative, HM!K hadn't done anything yet. A few hours later, though, she came home with a NordicTrack and told me she was going to set it up in the "sun room," the glorified hallway that houses the stairwell and the door to the front balcony and a table and a radiator and a bookshelf and an end table and two chairs. I told her NO. HM!N got home and asked me what was up with "the machine" and went "......>_<" about it. If she doesn't have a new home for it in a week, I am throwing that sucker out. (She gets a week's grace period because she can either clean her deathtrap bedroom for once or move it to the basement for storage, where it'll get just as much use.)
Aside from grading, though, most of my evening was spent puttering about in the kitchen. I boiled some eggs and made rice and did dishes and emptied out then refilled my cabinet of nonperishable foodstuffs. You see, we likely have...A Living Thing in our kitchen. Demonkitty was most intent on the space underneath the stove and the skritchy munching noises that were emanating from the depths. Quoth HM!N as paws streeeeeetched under the oven: "...is that really the most effective way of doing this, Lucky?" I didn't see any evidence of A Living Thing in the pertinent cabinet, but...HM!N spread some peanut butter in a mousetrap just in case and we're just hoping Demonkitty doesn't lose his tongue when he inevitably decides It Is His And He Wants It.
I need to put away laundry if I want to sleep on my bed tonight.
Actually, this would be a fine time to scour Megaupload for more Renaissance albums. I've been longing to hear "On the Frontier" for a while now. Even if Janis Joplin wins my heart and makes me forget about Annie Haslom whenever she comes on. "Roadblock," ajfhsgdhs. Polar opposites, those two women, and I love them both immensely. Then again....by all rights, I SHOULD be off grading papers and trying to slit my wrists with the papers, right now.
....Ahahahaha, the above paragraphs were written on Thursday. Fail, I has it.
What even happened on Thursday? ...I...have no recollection. It was wiped from my brain by the TRAUMA OF FRIDAY.
So...I whine and moan about this sort of thing a lot, but seriously, some people are just too stupid to live. I've ranted dozens of times about how I'm the only one who cleans. Most of these rants revolve around the bathroom. I am inches from buying a new doorknob and replacing it and keeping the only key on a chain around my neck.
Thursday night, HM!K was ill. She spent a great amount of time waking me up, because I am blessed with the room across from the bathroom. I slept and gave it no thought, because I'm not her mother. I spent the morning lolling around and trying to talk myself into grading those assignments that had been staring at me all week. Finally in the afternoon I ventured in to brush my teeth. And my feet. Stuck. To. The. Floor. And then I glanced to the side and realized that, no, I hadn't heard the toilet flush all night so HM!K was being sick in the sink and I know for a fact that the Clorox spray had not budged a millimeter from where I placed it the day before after wiping down the toilet seat because aksjdfhgskh okay not going there.
My skin crawled for ten minutes after I got out of there. I wanted to be sick. My mother sent me an instant message to which I said SEND ME A CARE PACKAGE. SEND BLEACH AND A FLAMETHROWER. I whined at number of people, because what requires making the bathroom floor sticky does not compute?! Finally I decided that I needed to get the hell out of the house before I went in with a match. I grabbed those assignments and my purse and spent some time in the cafe on the other side of the neighborhood, then went grocery shopping.
When I got back with my groceries, I stowed them away in appropriate locations, rolled up my jeans, turned on some battle music (">:|" playlist on FULL VOLUME, yo), grabbed the sponges and the Comet and my flip flops and scrubbed that fucking bathroom until I stopped feeling things crawl on my skin. I'm serious. I scrubbed the shower three times. I mopped the floor twice. I Cloroxed the sink four times and the toilet two. I took the nasty who-knows-how-old bathmat down to shake it out on the balcony and then decided to just leave it there until I could gather the courage to touch it again to throw it out, because de-grossing it was just not worth the effort. I may or may not have screamed things like "DO NOT WANT TO KNOW" and "NOT THINKING ABOUT IT. NOT. THINKING!!" during the venture.
When the floor dried I took a freaking shower, because it was clean and it was MINE.
HM!S got home at one in the morning, and forgot his keys again so he actually had to call me and get me out of bed. But he stood in the hallway and smelled the disinfectant and said, "Thank you...for doing...the...voodoo that...you...do" to which I said, "...HM!S, go to bed" and he said, "...'kay."
Saturday was kind of epic, because I woke up at 10 and realized at 11 that I needed to go to the bank, which I thought closed at 12 (I was wrong, but I would have been fine anyway \o/). Since I was already out and about, I decided to go into the city and troll TJ Maxx for a new bag (my ancient black one has days left to live and the Red Leather Monstrosity I bought this summer to replace it is already dead). Once I was downtown, I recalled a conversation with my mother about her willingness to order interview shoes for me online if I could tell her the size I needed. So I stepped into Aldo to check my memory of size for them, and discovered that the store was having "an EXTRA 50% off!" sale because apparently it's closing soon. Um...I now have two pairs of heels that make my flat feet want to cry but are super cute and acceptable professional wear and I paid $52 total instead of $160. I'm sorry, bank account, but it was a necessary expenditure! D:
I had no luck finding a black satchel that would have been appropriate that was anything approaching my price range ($80-$150 is WAY more than I will ever spend on a bag, okay!), but I found a slightly-smaller-than-ideal-but-usable brown Nine West one that would work with the brown heels. (I called my mother to say "forget about the shoes we talked about" and whine about bags at her, and she's since found me a black one, so huzzah.) I headed home. It was...twoish.
It was four in the afternoon when HM!K poked her head into my room. "I just wanted to let you know that I spilled some stuff in the bathroom Friday morning."
...What was it? "Hair product, you know that stuff that I use--" No, I don't, because I a) value my hair and don't put goop in it and b) don't go through your stuff. "Well, I cleaned it all up." Then why did my feet stick to the floor. "Your feet stuck to the floor?" ...Yes. "I cleaned it all up with the toilet paper." ...................................(this is where I had to remind myself again that blood is damning forensic evidence) "I was in a hurry, but I just wanted to let you guys know." DON'T YOU THINK IT WOULD HAVE BEEN GOOD TO LET ME KNOW YESTERDAY, BEFORE I FREAKED THE HELL OUT? "...???"
...It should come as unsurprising to find out that HM!S automatically assumes I'm mad at her, now. I finally set about grading this afternoon so I switched my gchat status to "LET THE GNASHING OF TEETH COMMENCE" and he sent, "...what did she do NOW?"
[[Speaking of grading, "WALL OF SOUND" STILL DOES NOT EQUAL "BRILL BUILDING SOUND". I distinctly recall ranting about this last year, too! lsdkjfhkdfjdfhks I got to the very last paper today and saw "in relation to Phil Spector's 'Wall of Sound,' the Brill Building producers blahblahblah" and honest to god I underlined it and drew a :D! and then wrote "I would give you bonus points for this distinction if I could, thank you!" underneath the kid's answers. Just when you lose faith in humanity ("Which city did the 1960s counterculture movement begin in?" "TEXAS"), one person is all it takes to heal the soul. &hearts I hate TAing this course so freaking much. And I'm going to spend class tomorrow going through regrading things because the professor finally responded an hour AFTER I'd finished grading to a question I emailed her three days ago.]]
To return to the chronological narrative, HM!K hadn't done anything yet. A few hours later, though, she came home with a NordicTrack and told me she was going to set it up in the "sun room," the glorified hallway that houses the stairwell and the door to the front balcony and a table and a radiator and a bookshelf and an end table and two chairs. I told her NO. HM!N got home and asked me what was up with "the machine" and went "......>_<" about it. If she doesn't have a new home for it in a week, I am throwing that sucker out. (She gets a week's grace period because she can either clean her deathtrap bedroom for once or move it to the basement for storage, where it'll get just as much use.)
Aside from grading, though, most of my evening was spent puttering about in the kitchen. I boiled some eggs and made rice and did dishes and emptied out then refilled my cabinet of nonperishable foodstuffs. You see, we likely have...A Living Thing in our kitchen. Demonkitty was most intent on the space underneath the stove and the skritchy munching noises that were emanating from the depths. Quoth HM!N as paws streeeeeetched under the oven: "...is that really the most effective way of doing this, Lucky?" I didn't see any evidence of A Living Thing in the pertinent cabinet, but...HM!N spread some peanut butter in a mousetrap just in case and we're just hoping Demonkitty doesn't lose his tongue when he inevitably decides It Is His And He Wants It.
I need to put away laundry if I want to sleep on my bed tonight.