I have been living for the past two days with a cloud over my head, a never-ending feeling of nagging dread and gloom... Yesterday, I may have peed at work and forgotten to flush, making myself into one of those people I hate the most.
See, I was in the stall, and it was crowded in there (the bathroom, not the stall -- that was just me), so I was trying to hurry, but I had a bazillion things on my mind, what with school and work and school and work, and I was also trying to remember to zip up my pants, because I don't want to show my co-workers my fat, shiny, white belly. So I'm concentrating on remembering to zip, remembering to do some other crap, blah blah, and then the next thing I know, I'm washing my hands. "Did I flush?" I asks myself. "I don't remember" was the reply. So I turned to re-enter the stall to flush in case I hadn't, when the Phlegm-o-nator walks into the bathroom and just beats me to the stall. So I'm figuring that if I didn't flush, the woman who stands by the copier and hacks up phlegm all day knows it. And she's not shy. She'll tell everyone that 2BD doesn't flush after she pees.
So, sorry about scaring y'all with that picture of Pumpernickel. She really is cute in a "She's got a great personality" way.
My ex-husband just called me to tell me about this thing at the monkey's school where you can see your kids' grades, so I had to pretend like I didn't know anything about it, since I signed up for it on the first day of school and have subsequently watched the monkey prove that he is prime vocational material. See, if I knew about it and didn't tell the X, then I'd be in deep and serious shit, and I don't like that. The last time I was in deep shit, the X's new wife pushed me off the front porch in one of my finer White Trash in the Suburbs moments. She was also yelling at me at the time. So he told me that I probably couldn't get access to it since I don't live at the monkey's permanent address, and I just said "Oh, interesting, I'll look into that..."
So, it seems like something interesting must have happened in the last few days, but since I have no short- or long-term memory, I'll be damned if I know what it might be. Last night I did damn near cut off the tip of my thumb while preparing a lime wedge (also known as "dinner"). So, since I vowed recently to use my slammin' digital camera to take something other than pictures of pets:
And then I made a sandwich:
Cheese, of course.
And I even took my camera all the way to Santa Fe, where I took pictures of adobe buildings and beautiful mountains. Kidding! I saw this piece of art in a restaurant:
It's not a picture of an actual pet, just a picture of a portrait that looks like Buster.
This morning Buster wallowed in a bush, grunting, to scratch his itchies, and ended up dressed as Busterus Caesar:
And this weekend, two dudes used two computers to bet on football whilst sitting on my couch. I have added sunglasses to obscure their identities.
Then we ate a lot of food. And the Badgers won! Woo hoo! But the Pack lost. Snif. Circle of life.