(no subject)

my parents are planning to pay me to sand and prime and paint some ugly-ass bookshelves we have. teak veneer. so ugly. and plain. might as well be made of cardboard boxes. anyway, when i'm done they'll be white. anything would be an improvement, but they're still gonna suck.

am not happy with this activity. painting. bookshelves. meh.

i did not sleep well, in other news, and rabid little pieces of inspiration keep biting without coalescing enough to form a whole story.

my mom and sister are leaving town today for a week, and i promised my dad 4/5 days will involve photocopying. because i'm dumb.

after a nutritious and satisfying breakfast of water and chocolate chip cookies...

the princess retired to her bedchamber for the remaineder of the morning.

to sleep.

(no subject)

until three years ago i played the oboe and was quite good at it, too. i wouldn't be able to tackle it again without another year's training or so--all my cheek muscles and lip muscles are gone--but i'm having the sudden strong urge to hunt up my grandmother's soprano recorder and play it.

it's hot in here, but. nice.

goodmorning, everyone. pretty day.

paint store

shopping with my mom is an ordeal in code-switching. i usually start off acting in dad-mode--

'but we don't have the plate,' it begins.
i say impatienty, 'do we need the plate? because i was under the impression that we were just using the plate as inspiration--'
'right--'
'so the plate is shades of yellow-orange.'
'yes.'
'so... don't you want to look at a yellow-orange?'
'well...'
'like this?'
'let's just go.'
'what? where are you going?'
'you're being rude,' she says.
'i'm just trying to find out what you want,' i protest.
'that's what daddy always says,' she replies darkly.

in the end, to avoid making her really angry, i have to start acting like she does, and the end result is that instead of a quart of paint we come away with two and a half gallons and grandiose plans, not just for the bookcase, but for the entire kitchen and dining room.

at least she's not mad at me anymore...

girl power!

guinevere33's wicked ex-boyfriend has resorted to counting the entries per day on her calendar to determine that she was locking some entries so he couldn't read them. the nerve of that stupid bastard! especially then to tell her about it as opposed to just stewing in his own malevolence. well, using the lj style overrides available to free users, we have made her calendar totally unreadable! bwahahahaha! take that, asshole.

cim's neuroses #1, 655, 346

i was virtuous and worked (::cough::andcomfortedjenn::cough::) all day today instead of chatting, and now i feel very unsettled and nervous. ::bites fingernails:: i just want to sleep until i can chat again.

screw virtuousness.

(no subject)

all of a sudden i understand the urge to get drunk.

i'm not sure why.

maybe it's about to go away again.

random craving:

shortbread cookies. buttery oily ones. will make some tomorrow when i'm skipping church, i think.

i'm getting incipient blisters on my hands from the miniature roller. on the other hand, the bookshelves are mostly white.

cuddlepint

guinevere33, i wouldn't worry about it. i don't think she's going to check her friends list. if you like i can hack her account and delete you from it, though. ;)

my mother...

...thinks that her perfectly ordinary printer is what is causing her computer not to work, despite the fact that the computer has been broken since it was purchased and the printer was only recently installed and in fact works pretty well with the computer, all things considered.

::frown::

i'm going to bed. wake me up when it's time to be unabashedly cheerful.