Ryan gave me the most excellent t-shirt ever. It's the I'm blogging this shirt from ThinkGeek. Anyway, it adds that little something extra to, say, buying condoms.
Not that I'm actually doing that, since I left my office/house keys and my magic ATM card at her house this morning and have to run around like an insane person to retrieve them this afternoon. I do have a key to her place, but it's...at her place. So I have to go to her office, get her keys, go to her house, get my keys, take her keys back to her...blah blah blah. How to make Friday more fun! But I did have an excellent time watching MST3K and embroidering with her and Sarah the Hussy last night, so it all works out.
I wouldn't be so disturbed by this if it wasn't the second time in a week that I have forgotten my keys. On Wednesday I left them in the lock on the closet door at work, and only discovered the error when I arrived home. Fortunately, it was almost time to pick up Dennis at work, and he had his keys. I'm just starting to wonder if the part of my brain that is responsible for keys has shut down for some reason, and I'm hoping that it's not next to the part of my brain that is responsible for things like wearing my bra inside of my shirt instead of outside it. looks down at chest
We're getting a new (to us) bed next week and I'm very excited about it. Sleeping alone on our rapidly-deteriorating futon last weekend while Dennis was in Chicago made me realize that I needed to accelerate my mental timeline for buying a new mattress. I did some googling for prices, followed by number crunching on our financial situation and it was pretty discouraging. And then this week someone at church asked if I knew anyone who would be interested in a free swanky mattress that is less than a year old. Why, yes, I do know someone like that. And a way to get it to Oakland just materialized, too, since it won't fit in the bug (duh) or the wagon (had to measure - I suck at spatial relationships). I'm choosing to look at this as a God thing, yet another cosmic cluesticking that I could maybe stop freaking out about money.
I just talked to Dennis, who has decided that his new criteria for whether or not to complain about something is, "Will this make me sound like Andy Rooney?" Because that's the danger, isn't it? Didja ever have to listen to someone whose voice is like a rat in your brain go on and on about how stupid everyone else is? Didja? I'm going to try it, too. Especially about traffic and my commute, which has SUCKED GIANT LIZARD EGGS this week.
If you feel that you haven't spit enough Diet Coke onto your keyboard this week, I suggest another visit to Superdickery, which has only gotten funnier. Hey, it's Friday.
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