“Carelessness in dressing is moral suicide.”
– Honoré de Balzac
(Picture from beingbrazen.com)
“There aren’t enough days in the weekend.”
– Rod Schmidt
Today I realized that, what with the insane week I’ve had at work/home/any other plane of existence that temporarily escapes me, I could not – for the life of me – remember whether or not I’d paid our October rent! On my lunch break I scampered over to our flat’s managers. She answered the door in her pajamas with scary hair and a sick-to-her-stomach looking face. Turns out, she’s pregnant and was having a miserably week to – and apparently so were a lot of other people living in our building because she waived the $15 late fee, citing life.
Excellent.
Also! Today was the first day I’ve worn a coat to work. It’s Fall! It’s my sister-in-law’s birthday so we’re going to her house this evening for cake. Tomorrow I get to play with Fairy and GS (whom I haven’t seen in weeks) for a lovely Ladies Only Afternoon. Last night I wore my chenille house slippers and made my first real cup of tea in a long time (with a teapot, as it was intended to be). J. is playing with the guys tonight so I think I will make a steaming pot of corn chowder and watch a movie.
The week’s almost over, poodles! Chins up!
“If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.”
– Woody Allen
Ever feel like God/the Universe/Fate/Whatever is doing that thing when you make plans and They laugh at you? Well, recently it’s felt like God/the Universe/Fate/Whatever has been having a benevolent but enthusiastic chuckle at our expense. Plans that we make, good plans, solid plans, with all necessary effort behind them to accomplish them, have just…not been happening.
Not to sound vain, but this is really the first time in my life that I’ve come up against so many game-changers (not counting my university’s Football team). I don’t know if that means I’ve been extremely clever, extremely lucky, or more than extremely pig-headed about getting what I plan on…but likely some combination of the latter two.
But I digress. Yesterday, the God/the Universe/Fate/Whatever decided that It had had enough of yanking our chains and allowed our hard work and single minded effort to pay off. Wiping the last of laughter tears from Its eyes, It gave a last little sigh of amusement and waved Its finger benevolently at us.
J. has an internship!
Granted it’s not the one we’d thought he’d have, but that’s not a bad thing. If he’d gotten the one we originally wanted, he’d have been shipped off somewhere for 6-8 weeks and I’d have stayed behind holding down the home front. Perfectly doable, but not at all fun (and the amount of Netflix I’d have consumed would have been perfectly shocking by any standards). But now he’s got an internship with a Fortune 500 company, local, that pays very well, and adds additional sparkle to his resume.
Collective sigh of relief.
“Ah, Cindy Sondheim, you should have lived in an earlier age. Things were simpler, less complicated. Do you know how many women had nervous breakdowns in the fourteenth century? Two.”
– Love at First Bite
Thanks for all the lovely pick-me-up comments yesterday, darlings. It was really nice to know how many of you have felt the same way – and as every last one of you have turned out amazing and unbelievably fabulous, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to do the same with a bit more time, a few more naps, and much less stress.
Yesterday was beastly (if you couldn’t tell!). We’ve heard negatives on some of J.’s internship applications and are still waiting to hear back on others, which is almost more nerve wracking.
I had to hire a dozen students last minute and despite telling administration multiple times that we don’t have space for any more people, they were still shocked to discover that we didn’t have enough lockers or uniforms/gear for them. Unfortunately, the ones ending up looking foolish in this situation are your friendly neighborhood C. and Hennessy, who have to explain to several students why they have to cart a pile half as tall as me of gear home with them.
I barely averted a few violations that would have added up to potentially thousands of dollars in fines had I not caught them.
I’d only got four hours of sleep the night before.
So, these and other factors combined into the perfect storm. Literally! Just as I was getting ready to go do the laundry run, a massive lightening and rain storm whipped up. You may recall how often it rains when I do the laundry run, it’s lately become the office joke. So when I ambled past Susie’s office to tell her I was heading out I glanced our her window and froze. It was pitch black outside and rain was lashing the pane.
I felt a helpless, hysterical giggle start bubbling up inside of me and a clapped a hand over my mouth to keep it in. But to no avail! Both Susie and Wise turned, saw the rain, and started chuckling. Then Chief poked his head around the corner and grumbled, “Have you done the laundry yet?”
That did it. I collapsed on Susie’s desk laughing (and nearly crying). She and Wise joined in, Chief stared at us a minute before retreating to the safety of his office. When I got home, I put on flannel pants, an oversized sweatshirt, pinned my hair up, and crawled into bed with a book.
All better now.
By all means marry; if you get a good wife, you’ll be happy; if you get a bad one, you’ll become a philosopher.
– Socrates
Confession time. I was an excellent girlfriend when J. and I were dating. I was independent, clever, fun to be around, liked trying new things, was optimistic, and supportive (oh, and definitely humble). By anyone’s standards I really was a catch.
Alternatively, I’m starting to think that I really suck at being a wife.
To start out with, I am stressed all the time…but I think this is pretty understandable. When we got married, I assumed the rent, food, utilities, car payments, insurance, two credit cards, and the general livelihood of two people, solely by myself. Just so we are clear I am happy to do this, but I can’t lie, it’s an awfully big pressure. I live in fear of unlikely events (pregnancy, job loss, etc.) because of how it will affect my family. It’s a Great Big Worry to carry around all by myself and I confess, I probably exacerbate the stress by trying (in all my control freak, Small Dog glory) to plan and be prepared for every eventuality. Which is, of course, impossible.
It’s also very hard for me to adjust my thinking to his. His life revolves around school, I graduated two years ago and now work full time. Most of his friends still live in the area or within an hour’s driving, most of my friends (exception of Margot and Angel) are in different states/countries and my nearby family is pretty busy these days. Honestly, it can get terribly lonely working a subsistence job, having a thinned out support system, and bearing the financial weight of two people. I’ve always been pretty good at entertaining myself, keeping myself busy, but honestly it’s downright exhausting these days.
This stress builds up to the point the small things violate my sense of order. If the rubbish isn’t taken out when I ask, if the house is a mess, if I have a bad day at work, or if…you get the idea. Complete transformation into a snarling Gorgon.
Small things become massive disappointments, such as when J. applied for a job and didn’t get it (even though they wanted him) because he’s graduating in six months and they want someone for longer.
I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m not fun to be married to these days. I’m worried, shrewish, tired, easily irritated…I’m the exact opposite of what I was as a girlfriend. And even though I’m sure a good chunk of this can be tied to my birth control being out of whack, I’m feeling miserable about it.
“The test of good manners is to be patient with bad ones.”
– Gabirol
However. Setting up a massive loudspeaker system and then switching it on at 4:30 in the morning, waking me up to screaming rock music, might do the bloody trick.
Whoever you are, I hope dreadful, unspeakable things happen to you.
“The saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.”
– Isaac Asimov
The interesting thing about working at a university is how much information, equipment, and expertise is available to you. So when a plastic bag filled with large bones is found buried on the grounds, it’s the work of a moment to ask someone from Anthropology to come over and verify that they aren’t human. Just in case. Or, less professionally, when one is hungry, one can just scamper over to any of the cafes, food halls, or centers that provide sustenance for cheap prices.
Alternatively, using campus resources can often put one in an awkward situation.
In the library there is a very nice media lab where you can covert anything in any format to any other format you please. Now I’m pretty technologically illiterate, but even I can appreciate that sort of thing. And for the first time I got to use it yesterday when Lt. Citrus gave me a sack full of VHS tapes and told me to convert them to DVDs. How neat, thought I, and off I trotted.
I got a crash course in using the towering masses of machinery and, after snatching a book to keep me company (another benefit of a university setting), I got to work. There was a lot of loading/unloading tapes, keeping an eye on the screens, finalizing data, etc., but mostly it involved waiting for the tapes to run fully (which could last from a few minutes to a couple hours). And I even watched a couple: guy holding an audience hostage because God told him he was supposed to be supreme dictator or Earth, rioting at football games, your average wierdos…you know, the usual.
However there was some pretty dark stuff too and when converting those I taped paper over the screens (because I am of the somewhat old fashion opinion that an individual’s personal tragedy is nobody else’s damn business). During these tapes, I kicked back with my book until I was rudely disturbed but a gentleman marching up to me.
“You’ve been here for a long time,” he accused.
“Yes, and I apologize, but I am working on something important on behalf of the University. I’m nearly done. Do you need the machines?”
“No,” he said snappishly . “I just think you’re being inconsiderate taking up so much time.”
Not really prepared to handle this sort of time management vigilante-ism (side note – not one person had previously needed to use the machines or asked me when I would be done), I only blinked.
“You’re probably not even doing anything remotely important,” he continued, crossing his arms and turning up his nose. “What are you working on?”
I felt an eyebrow climb at his tone but answered in a chipper voice, “Well I’m transferring a video taken from a homicide scene investigation. Then I’ll have to transfer the autopsy tapes as well, care to watch?”
His eyes bugged for a moment and then he slunk off.
Like I said, the equipment and resources amassed here are fantastic, but the ability to see some people in all there snippy, self-important silliness might be my favorite part of my job after all.
“For birth control I rely on my personality.”
– Milt Abel
Hey. How’ya doing? You good? You look good. Work going well? Glad to hear it.
Well, Birth Control, you know how fond I am of you. I like to think we’re pals, you keeping me baby-free until I choose and everything. I really do appreciate it and I know not all women are as lucky as I am to have the options you give me. But, Birth Control, you’re kind of sucking these days. Now I don’t want to poison our relationship, but really I think you need to start treating me a bit better.
See, I’ve gained 20 pounds since marriage. And I don’t think it’s entirely my fault. I work out regularly and am conscientious about my diet, after all, I’m not a teenager anymore, I’m aware of it and try to eat accordingly. Lots of salads, lean protein and a hamburger once a month if that. I admit a weakness to deep fried potatoes, but I simply avoid them and other such badness by staying away from temptation. I’ve reworked eating plans several times and cut back on/out everything remotely bad, upping veg intake and forgoing sugar. And yet, when I weighed myself in Los Angeles, I was at 140. I’m (barely) five feet tall, and weighed 120 pounds a year ago. Un-bloody-acceptable.
And speaking of Los Angeles, do you know how humiliating it is for your father-in-law to find you on your hands and knees in the dirt by the dumpsters emptying your stomach of its contents while on vacation? Before I got on you, Birth Control, I had a migraine maybe once a year in times of deep stress. First few months our our marriage I got one every once and a while. Then once a month. I’m up to almost once a week now.
Do you know what a migraine feels like? Like a sociopath stabbing one repeatedly in the eye while jumping up and down on one’s stomach, banging a mallet against one’s skull. The slightest light or noise hurts like the Furies and any movement means careening to the bathroom to rid oneself of whatever food or liquid one has managed to keep down thus far. It means dehydration, hours of dry retching, and the shakes for two days after. It means pure, unadulterated misery.
And finally, I have been experiencing random explosions of irritation at people. Not mild eye-rolling, but brief yet intense feelings of wanting to rip some people’s heads off. Roller coaster rides of rage. These have been increasing along with those migraines we just talked about, and I don’t think the two are unconnected.
None of this existed before you and I got involved, Birth Control, so it’s pretty simple to draw a few connections and conclusions. If, in spite of self awareness and attempts to correct the problems, things keep getting worse, I think I’m justified in leaving you for one of your pharmaceutical cousins.
So, Birth Control, you’re on notice. I’m reworking my diet/exercise regime again one more time, but if I don’t lose the weight, the headaches, and the desire to kick baby seals, you and I are through.
Love,
C.
“…until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard.”
– Sheryl Crow
We went to LA for the weekend to celebrate the finalized adoption of my brother-and-sister-in-law’s son. Hurrah, he’s ours! Back off LA county!
They live right off Santa Monica Blvd so we walked the pier, shopped 3rd street, and took in an installation art show on the beach. We went to Universal Studios, rode all the rides, and did the studio tour which went right through Wisteria Lane, as they were filming Desperate Housewives. I had a massive migraine, more on that later, but we soldiered on! We also had a celebrity sighting, some actor from Lost who I’ve never heard of.
Meanwhile, my little brother Gio started university, and Mum was hired to teach Western Civilization at a college back on the East Coast. J. had an interview with Firm #3 on Friday, and has a job interview today along with a couple of exams. I couldn’t find half of my things getting ready for work this morning.
All signs of an excellent weekend vacation.
“Welcome to the Church of the Holy Cabbage. Lettuce pray.”
– Anonymous
Additional perk to Interview Week social rounds: we have been given a full meal almost every night this week, that neither one of us had to make. Although the caterers basically made us Thanksgiving dinner for one of them – stuffing, turkey, and pumpkin pie included. The only reason we had to go to the store at all since Saturday was to get pasta sauce (because this overabundance of food has turned your friendly household C. into The Laziest Wife Ever and the only thing I did this week in the way of cooking was boiling pasta), and ice cream sandwiches. Because we needed those.
Small Dog Syndrome 