|Valentine's Day cactus... it didn't bloom at Christmas|
My cup of coffee and I sat down this morning to tackle a chapter of algebra. Instead, enthusiasm joined the caffeine to keep me all a-jitter and breathless as I wrote several of the important sort of emails that you want to spend hours over, because you're desperately afraid that if your space bar double-types—and mine will cheerfully triple-type when I'm not looking—and you don't catch that, the answer will be "No! The gods of Work and University only accept the unblemished offerings of perfect people."
There was a terrifying but rather fun high-speed editing test in there, too. And in the middle of all the excitement, my browser crashed in spectacular flames.
But I have now done all that can be done for the day. Upon getting permission from myself to stop panicking, I have moved on to feeling dazed and sleepy and—since this school doesn't require the scores to admit me—more than usually tempted to unregister from the SAT and eat the nonrefundable fee.
At least it's now the weekend. Yay. I'm going to go make cookies in a few minutes.
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Maia: "I want to sleep on the towel shelf. There are too many towels, and I can't fit in there. Move one."
Me: "No, kitty. I'm not making it easier for you to get cat litter on the clean bath towels."
Maia: "Hmpf." *bats eye shadow compact onto floor*
|Crate full of blankets: an acceptable substitute. In a pinch.|
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Everything is useful when you write fiction. E.g.: if I ever need to describe the experience of a character's getting stabbed or shot in the chest, I will remember how it felt to sneeze with pleurisy.
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Music of the week: Marian Call. My friend Alison linked her on Facebook recently with a comment about all browncoats needing to listen to her. At this point I've killed the better part of an hour wandering around Ms. Call's blog and website and YouTube videos, and I'm not sure how to decide between linking the song for River or the song for Jayne, so you get both. And I've got a new musician to follow.
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On rainy late-June days, when it's 55 degrees out, I miss Montana. On early February days with highs in the low 20s and lows in the teens, I yearn over Arizona. It's almost enough to make me overlook tarantulas and water shortages.
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Cats have been sabotaging human work for centuries. Here's proof. Thanks for the link, Lou. <3
Also, these people are adorable. They re-create scenes from movies using cardboard boxes, household items, and their own little family, including their baby. Major cute fix at CardboardBoxOffice.com, if you need it:
"...the important sort of emails that you want to spend hours over, because you're desperately afraid that if your space bar double-types—and mine will cheerfully triple-type when I'm not looking—and you don't catch that, the answer will be ;'No! The gods of Work and University only accept the unblemished offerings of perfect people.'"ReplyDelete
You really haven't gone to college, have you? Nowadays college admissions people are probably glad if people can string three sentences together coherently.
And why are you missing out on the therapeutic benefits of cat litter on bath towels? ;)
You really haven't gone to college, have you? Nowadays college admissions people are probably glad if people can string three sentences together coherently.Delete
Hahaha! Well, that makes me feel a little less terrified. :)
The therapeutic benefits to living with a cat who has gotten exactly what she wanted, you mean? I confess, it's more relaxing to not have my eye shadow broken into little bits. :P
I love those cat paw prints!ReplyDelete
I came over from your post on Christie's blog, but had to stop right here - I'm elated to find another Marian Call fan out there. I turn on "Good Morning Sun" whenever I need a pick me up and a friend put her "Geek Song" on a mix-cd for my toddler.ReplyDelete
Thanks for stopping by--and ooh, she's amazing!! I just need to go buy her Firefly/Battlestar Galactica CD. It's wonderful.Delete