I'm In!

And stealing wireless access from "Joe1". How original.

I'm 70% unpacked and 100% tired. And Chloe seems a little freaked out by all the movement and confusion over the past few days. She's started licking a spot on her paw that has gotten all red and raw, but I don't think she ever got cut or injured at all. I put some calendula (a homeopathic ointment) and a gauze wrap on it and she hasn't tried to get it off yet, so hopefully that will help.

I think I lost my digital camera. I saw it a few days ago while packing. And then went to look for it and it was gone. I don't remember packing it. The only other person who was in and out of the apartment while I was packing was the super. I'll wait until I'm fully unpacked before fully jumping to conclusions...

Oh yeah, happy new year.

A Life Mantra

"As long as everything is exactly the way I want it I'm totally flexible."

- Lorelai Gilmore. Season 2, Episode 13.

Stress? Me? No way.

I'm surrounded by boxes, clothing, suitcases, and dusty furniture. And I banged my knee earlier and it fucking hurts.

Christmas was...ok. The usual drama was there, but the presents seemed to take the edge off. I slept a lot, saw a couple movies, and slept some more. But now I'm back here packing and trying to get rid of about 20% of my shitty belongings. Hasn't been worn in a year? Gone. Don't know what the gadget/manual/gizmo is for? It's gone.

I may have to polish off the wine in the fridge. Better than pouring it down the drain, right?

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Update. 9:30pm.

I gave up for the night. And, brilliantly, decided to watch Rob Zombie's Halloween. And now I don't think I'm ever leaving these walls again.

I'm not moving again until I move in with a boy.

I hate moving. No, hate isn't a strong enough word. Despise? Loathe? Loathe, yes.

But I looooove my new apartment. I'll be moving in sometime next weekend. Lovely brownstone, lovely area, closer to work, laundry in the building (a huge thing with me) and dog friendly.

To bad I haven't started packing yet. God, I'm just doing laundry now to pack for the five whole days I'll be gone for Christmas. And then its a couple frenzied days of packing, hopefully throwing out a lot of crap I never use/wear/need in the process, and then it's January 2nd and I get to go back to work and start billing many more hours than I'm billing right now.

I'm thinking a New Years Eve consisting of a 9pm Ambien and a glass of wine will rock my world.

Because damnit, I deserve some takeout.

I've been trying to cook more and order less when it comes to dinner. Cheaper and healthier, right? However, like most Americans, I probably eat out (or order in) three times per week.

Sometimes, like today, it's just inevitable. Running around for 12 straight hours, from home to court, court to office, office to someone else's office, then wandering around in a feeble attempt at Christmas shopping (when the only things I ended up buying were for myself - oops), the last thing I'm doing is cooking.

I think I need a stay at home husband. Or at least one who will take pleasure in and enjoy cooking after his own long day.

It's Sunday morning - why am I so tense?

Oh, because Mitt Romney is on Meet the Press:

Tim: "How did you reconcile the fact that your church did not grant full rights to blacks until 1978?"

Mitt: "Tim, I love my church. I will never distance myself from my church. Now, I am the son of my mother and father and they were strong supporters of civil rights. My father walked out of the 1964 Republic Convention because he didn't think Barry Goldwater was strong enough on civil rights. Of course I was happy when the church made a change. But my position has always been clear."

Tim: "But don't you think the Mormon Church was wrong?"

Mitt: "Tim, I think I've been clear on my position."

Um, really? First of all, the fact that you will never distance yourself from your church is, frankly, a problem. Second, if your parents, also Mormons, were such staunch supporters of civil rights (query - I wonder how many gay people there are in the higher ups of the Mormon church), why didn't you do anything to speed up the so-called reformation? 1978?! That's fucking embarrassing.

Another gem: "My work in the private sector, including when I headed up the Salt Lake City Olympic Committee, really prepared me to be president." Right. Because smoothing over the pairs figure skating judging scandal is on par with nuclear arms negotiations. Dick. (Sidebar: as a former figure skater, I am not in any way demeaning the sport. But I'm also not running for president.)

Also, I don't want a president named Mitt. Sorry.

Forget raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.

These are a few of my favorite things:*

Taking a shower and putting on clean pajamas.
The end of the run endorphin rush.
Peppermint tea.
That feeling you feel when you're physically exhausted and finally get into bed and your limbs literally sink into the mattress.
The way Chloe curls into the crook of my legs or spreads herself along the top of my shins not caring in the least if she messes up work papers that may be surrounding me on the couch.
The fact that if all else fails, my mom will make me feel better.

What's on your list?



*Don't worry. I still have LOTS of things to complain about. I just thought I'd take a night off.

I think my uterus just did a flip.

I'm kind of doing work but have Dateline on the background. Ann Curry is visiting the McCaughey septuplets AGAIN, and I find myself tearing up when one of the kids starts crying about how much she loves her mom? Wtf. Yeah, I may want a baby. Not seven babies though. And I would probably want to give it back after about an hour.

This is what I get for going running in the morning.

My shoelace came untied, and my key to the building front door somehow slipped off. Thankfully my apartment key did not, and when I got back I only had to wait a few minutes for someone to come out of the building so I could get in. I have another one, although I'm not supposed to duplicate them. There goes my key deposit.

The patented ABC crack machine of emotional manipulation is older than I thought.

I've been netflixing Once and Again. I occasionally watched it when it was on TV those many years ago (1999?!) but now I find it disturbingly and extremely relevant to my life. Parents get divorced in your formative teenage years, you're forced to realize they have needs and faults outside of your own existence, and you twist and mold yourself into the glue holding each raw edge together.

Hey, it's more enjoyable and cheaper than therapy.

Deep Breath

I got a raise. Not quite as much as I wanted, and I will have to work more as it involves a combination of base salary increase plus bonuses. But overall, it will allow me to move to a nicer neighborhood (although, as per nyc, my apartment will be smaller), keep paying my loans, and breathe (slightly) easier. At least for now. The whole "savings" and "retirement" thing will still be mostly on the backburner.

So. I did an incredibly difficult thing. Something I've never done before, and most of my friends have never done before. My bosses made it clear that they want to keep me and keep me happy. So why don't I feel completely satisfied? Is it our lot in life to always want more? And I'm not even talking about money anymore.

I clearly have nothing of substance to say.

The conversation happened yesterday. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't great. They didn't come back with a number, although they said they will asap. I still feel physically and mentally awful and haven't been this stressed out since the days before the bar exam.

Also, my ipod is officially dead, which means I've had to actually deal with hearing the assholes on the subway for the past few days.

A Well Balanced Breakfast

Coffee and Excedrin Migraine. It does a body good.

Dear Boss #1 and Boss #2,

I've been here for almost a year. Sometime this week, whenever you both have time, there are some things I'd like to discuss with you, including my responsibilities, where I am going, and what I should be receiving.

Thanks.

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The above email was sent earlier this evening. I sort of already want to throw up. But after lots of thought, research, and the collision of various circumstances, I can't put it off any longer.

Keep your fingers crossed.