2005-02-17 - 7:32 p.m.
I love living in the north where there are lovely seasons that change and keep me on my toes. I even moved six hours south when I moved from my hometown to Chicago. And I hate hate hate hate summers if it gets above 85 degrees.
It's a fun (dangerous?) lottery:
-Should I wear the winter hat and gloves today even though it was 50 degrees out yesterday?
-No, I'll skip them and keep my hair nice (well, if you consider going 5 months without a haircut because I'm too lazy to actually call and make one nice).
-The wind chill is 0. I find this out after I'm already at work and can't do anything about it. So it's freaking cold and I've turned into one of the annoying people I always whine about who don't prepare themselves for the cold and then are surprised that they're not perfectly comfortable. So then I whine about how cold I am to a coworker, and am struck silent with horror realizing that I've become everything I hate. Okay, maybe a little melodramatic. But at least I notice this stuff sometimes -- that gets me some keeping-it-real points back, right? (ha ha, only major whities like me will end up writing a "g" on the end keeping when it's in the middle of a phase like "keeping it real")
Re: The list of cryptic odd bits that I try to form into coherent sentences in this journal doohicky
I'm reading Amalah somewhat obsessively right now. I started at the beginning of the archives (odd for me since I normally read online journal/diary/blog things backwards) and am reading forward. And quick shout-out? Amalah, you rock. I want to be your friend and loavvve you and I'm kind of jealous of all the people who knew about your journal way before I did and so are your friends in the comments section. But every time (well, 3 out of the 10) I came up with a fun thing to write about I came upon an entry she had done that was about the exact same topic. And way funnier and more eloquent. Gah!
My patch almost made me insane today. Or at least embarrased.
I love it because I can't (I've tried and failed miserably. I'm lucky I figured this out before the wedding/beginning-of-potential-baby-resulting-activities.) take a pill every day. Note that I did not say "at the same time every day" because that would have been the next step after being able to take one just every day. Or even every three days. I can (most of the time) remember to do something once a week.
The itching is not generally very bad at all, and so other than the ring of adhesive goo permanently on both butt-cheeks, I'm at the end of my Search for the Perfect Birth Control.
Except that every once in a while, the itching starts and makes me want to drag my bum (huh? Am I British?) along the floor like an uncomfortable dog. This of course, happened today. In my office. Which I share with a male who is nice but so totally not the type for me to share this type of issue with. So I kept making surreptitious moves toward my ass with my scratching-finger and having to stop just before the blessed, blessed scratching. So I was going to the bathroom as often as I could without drawing undue attention to have the scratching session that was so desperately necessary.
Eventually... (I'm not going to talk about time frames, so deal...) I'm not going to have to use the stuff anymore. And a thrilling day that will be!
Listy Listy Bo Bisty
Things that make my day a bit more pleasant:
-Tea! Mmmm... I love tea breaks. I can't deal with coffee (jittery, fast heartbeat, nausea, jumpy, etc.) But some yummy tea with less caffeine than crap coffee? Ideal. And also, my crush Alton Brown did a whole show about it and validated my crazy-tea-drinking-ways. (my husband has accepted this crush as he also thinks AB is freaking awesome. Yay!)
-When the light turns green and the little white-walking-man pops on right as I come up to an intersection. Don't even have to break stride. (Caveat -- this is the opposite of making my day pleasant when it happens and a real-life crazy taxi makes a right turn into my pedestrian right-of-way.)
-New entries by Mimi Smartypants.
-Getting the little single seats on the Orange Line that mean I don't have to touch anyone on the ride home. And the morbidly obese people who tend to sit next to me and spill over onto my arm because I don't take up that much space can't. HA!
-My husband and dog. Always. Even if I'm mad at one or both of them (rare!).
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