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August 13, 2002: La la la

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The futon cover has been hanging on the line now for three days. I'd pretend that this is a repetition of the great sock incident, but there just isn't as much honor in leaving a futon cover out as there was with the socks. It's really only still out there because we're both too lazy to go fetch it, and besides there aren't any guests coming over who might want to sit on the currently naked futon any time soon. It'll come in eventually - probably the next time I do laundry and need to space for hanging other things.


I am used to getting hordes of spam in my email inbox, especially directed to the old pacbell accounts, because for those accounts, spam is pretty much the only thing I get these days. But lately I am getting an unusually high amount of phone spam. 80% of the time I answer the phone it's one of those stupid recordings trying to sell me something, or some extremely chipper young person trying to sell me something, or my personal favorite - some person with far too much caffeine in their blood system insisting that they are calling about an entry I put in a drawing. When I press on *where* the entry was placed, I get vague replies, or even occasionally locations to which I've never even been. They all desperately want to give me something - if only I'll go sit and listen to their seminar about buying a timeshare. Um. No. It's frustrating though because since I'm in job-hunting mode, I am hesitant to just let the answering machine screen the calls. At least we're still newly married enough that they're mostly calling for my maiden name (and they usually botch the pronunciation of that horribly). That's enough of a give-away that I have my "nothanksI'mnotinterestedgoodbye" speech all ready for the caller the instant they tell me what it is that they really think I should buy.


I have been going through short spurts of productivity followed by spurts of laziness where I sit slack-jawed in front of the computer and play endless games from Shockwave. I need to just not allow myself to go to that site anymore. It's bad for me. Really it is. I'm discovering just how time consuming job hunting really can be, what with all the staring blankly at my generic cover letter template trying to figure out how to spin myself *this* time, and the lengthy registration screens I have to fill out for job sites and recruiting firms. And since now there was no excuse at all for my slackerness now that I don?t have that 'I'm at work all day' thing going on, I finally finished the curtains for the computer room. Because the computer room is set up so we each have *our* half and we can do whatever we want with it, the curtains are not both the same. Richard's is dark blue with little glittery gold stars and planets and constellations outlined all over. Mine is - this will come as a huge shock to you I'm sure - cream colored with little black and gray and brown tabby cats all over it, but not in a cutesy way. Well okay, not too cutesy. All that remains now is to whip up that little curtain for the bathroom and then I have an excuse to go to the fabric store again (the laundry room needs something. Badly. Sun streaming in. Very bright. Ow). I've also been doing a lot more cooking - chicken caesar salads last night, a peach cobbler experiment this morning for breakfast (that turned out rather yummy), and homemade rolls (Bread machines - lovely devices, those) and potato cheese soup for dinner tonight.


We didn't even ride 200 miles last month (although I think we're pretty close to 700 miles overall, so it wasn't all bad), and this month so far neither of us has touched a bike (I'm not counting the little one-speeds at Lakeside). Richard's excuse is that he came down with a cold and is all coughy and wheezy. My excuse air. Yeah. Air quality index is icky. Can't ride bike. Must stay inside. Yes. That's it.


When we got married Richard said that if I ever needed him to buy feminine products, he would, but I promised that I would never ask him (so it all works out lovely, see, mainly because I didn't want to deal with the hassle of trying to explain to him exactly what size tampons I need and that doesn?t even take into considering the issue of tampon applicator type or the whole debate over whether or not pads should have wings). I did not, however, promise not to ask him to get other girly type things. Today I asked him to get me some hair color, because as usual when I went to the store for groceries I forgot to grab a box (I did get Lucky Charms though, so the trip wasn't a total loss). I was half expecting a phone call from my poor beleaguered husband as he stood in the store confronted with a dazzling array of choices, but he managed to get me the right one, even though I wasn't exactly sure about the color number. So tonight I'll redo my hair in order to look my best and brightest for tomorrow because I'm off to a job fair where, the flyer assures me, there will be dozens (yes, dozens) of companies looking to hire people in the tech field.

Sometime in the next week or so I need to figure out how to get a piece of cake to my in-laws (can you mail frozen things?) and the bathrooms really need to be cleaned and that wedding album is never going to finish putting all the pictures in itself. Whee. I tell you, the excitement around here, it just never ends.

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