Lost starts up again tonight! As much as I would love to think that I am above TV-watching, I have to admit that I am not. I even watch American Idol. But Lost is the one thing that I will kill people for interrupting, so let’s not call my house while it’s on, ‘kay?
I am angry at chocolate. I need to figure out what the hell is wrong with the chocolate sponge cake I want to make into a jelly roll and why it’s too dry and WON’T ROLL. It breaks. I can’t figure out why. Working on it, though.
My child is currently on a serious waffle kick. She will eat waffles for every meal of every day if I will let her. I’m thinking about getting a waffle iron so I can at least put fruits and vegetables into the batter. However, I know that as soon as I buy or otherwise acquire a waffle iron, she won’t eat waffles anymore. SHE IS NUTS.
My father is currently not speaking to my mother. Apparently, he got pissy about something and decided to sleep in his recliner. This was two weeks ago. He’s still there, according to the email that I got yesterday. Even for our family’s standards, this is taking it a bit far, I think. I’m going to have to call him and ask him what’s up so he can launch into a litany of petty complaints about my mom. Then I’ll have to tell him that he’s acting like a dick and should really stop.
I love the fact that I can talk to my parents this way.
What else… what else…
Freddie starts his new job at his old company on Monday. He felt like he had gone as far as he could go with his current job, and as he started looking for something new, he contacted his former boss for advice and was offered a job pretty much instantly. Sweet. I think it will be a good opportunity for him, even with his trepidation about going back to his old company. We’re going to spend the weekend going through his wardrobe and shopping for clothes to add to it. He’s been able to wear jeans for the last two years, so his suit & tie collection suffered immensely.
I have to paint my living room. It’s really starting to wear on me. Unfortunately, the previous owners did the worst painting job I have ever seen and now I have to paint the damn ceiling, too. The ceiling would need to be painted ANYWAY, but I might have been able to get away with not doing it just now if they hadn’t gotten shit-brown paint roller marks all over it. Fuckers. I hate them.
I keep going back and forth about painting the trim or not. It’s white, and needs to be painted anyway since when it was installed, they didn’t fill in the nail holes and there are hundreds of wee little black specks everywhere. Of all the crazy crap in this house, that pisses me off the most. So it does need to be painted, but I don’t know if I want to paint it white or if I want to do something a little more dramatic. Decisions, decisions.
I suppose the trim color can be decided once I decide what color to paint the walls. I can’t seem to make a decision about this and it’s driving me nuts.
In other Jillian news, she is finally starting to grow some hair. You can’t see the outline of her skull anymore, so that’s a nice change. People have stopped asking me what my son’s name is. Of course, it helps that her winter coat looks like we killed a gay Muppet to make it, but even in the summer when she’s dressed in pink and frills and stuff, people ask me what “his” name is. Teehee.
Whew. I need a nap. I’m battling the beginnings of a cold and I really really don’t want it to escalate because instead of being inches from death for a few days with a quick recovery, I tend to be utterly miserable for months. Between Alka-Seltzer Plus (cherry flavor) and yoga, I feel pretty good today. I have hope.
Speaking of hope, didja see the trade the Mets did? DIDJA?
P’s hair is growing too, thank god. She’s still rocking the mullet, but I pray one of these days some bloody hair will come in on the sides.
Also, P also has a coat that looks like the fur of a gay muppet, how weird. I might send you a photo, which will be very exciting for you no doubt.