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2001-04-17 He sounded so crestfallen on the phone. He didn't want to have a whole night in the house, I knew. I know he said he didn't care later but it certainly sounded like he wanted at least a little out of the house time. And it had been a nice day out there even if I was inside with Bronchitis all day...OK, let's walk to Manora's for Thai Food. I just have to do it slowly because if I walk too fast I get winded and have a coughing fit. But I'll be happy to go to dinner with my baby. Anything for my widdle snookiewumps. Ugh. I put that there to make the Roommate retch, and just succeeded in making myself ill. Honestly, it was good to get out of the house and not feel like some disfigured creature (Freudian typing moment: just wrote "creative" instead of "creature"). I was inhibited at irritating other diners: Seal-boy goes to dinner, barks at other restaurant guests. So it was definitely good. Even if the evening entertainment ended up being me finishing "Flaming Iguanas" by Erika Lopez and listening to him snore sweetly next to me. Maybe because that was all I needed. Over three years and he still makes me gushy and soft. I know, it's gross. Anyway, there was only one serious coughing fit on the way back where he looked at me like, "Are you all right, or are you about to pull a Linda Blair and spin your head around 360 degrees spewing hot Tom-Kha-Gai-Jay at me"? I was hurrying. I had to use the bathroom. We lolled around in bed dangerously late on Sunday, only getting up and dressed just at the time Mom and Dad were supposed to show up for Easter Greetings. Mom gets the three boys up here Easter Candy. I think she's in league with my dentist, because I always end up getting everybody else's Peeps, and those burn holes in your teeth if you chew them funny. But it's better to eat them now than to wait until they get hard, like the Boyfriend's Dad does. Ew. I'll have even less to chew on anyway...I'm grinding my teeth, too. I looked this up on the Web somewhere in relation to my other symptoms and it mentioned that "Children commonly grind their teeth in response to the common cold or other respiratory infection." Uh oh. So not only have I developed a nervous habit, but they're also telling me it's juvenile? Great. I knew I regressed a bit when I was sick, but I can hope it doesn't last. Anyway, Mom always treats me well when she comes. She not only brought a slew of comestible stuff -- from bagels to her very yummy lasagne to wine -- but also the cast iron cookware that she can't use on her new range. Pre-seasoned Cast Iron skillets? Oh yeah. I just have to find...somewhere to put them...See, our kitchen suffers from the same lack of space that the whole rest of our apartment does. We have stuff on top of stuff on top of stuff. I've started a Charity items pile, but it's seemed to have blended in with all the other things in our hallway and living room. The Roommate teases me about having to have things like slicers and other tools to cook with which, well, I might only need once or twice...like the Mandoline (Hey, YOU try making homemade Potatoes Dauphin without a v-slicer!). Regardless...extraneous or not, we have too much kitchen stuff and not enough kitchen. I have to convince the Roommate that seasoned cast iron on a gas stove is the cooking surface of the Gods. Or at least cool enough that he'll let me keep it in the kitchen. Okay, 1AM means its time for an antibiotic and some Codeine cough syrup. If this starts getting weirder than usual at this point, that's why. I know, weirder than usual? That's a tall order. Today I finally got to the doctor, which was a trip unto itself (I wrote about it in this weblog entry, if you'd like to review.) And I came back to work, breezed around a while, watched all my coworkers leave somewhat early, and then I turned off the computer and left at a normal hour -- 6:30 today, not my typical 8 or 9 PM. I walked to Market Street in the late evening light, enjoying the air. And I felt like I just had...a job, not an obsession. It felt weird. It really shouldn't; this is what tons of people around the world do. When work time is over, they just go home. Tons of people in my office do it. I need to explore this phenomenon some, and figure out how they manage. Don't their workplaces explode when they're not there? Is there no one there to keep the Corporation from falling apart by its stitching at 9 at night (by doing Web graphics...of course....) Puzzling. Must investigate further. _Casey
2003-03-29 - Moving Notice |
