Mania.
Maddie seems to be adjusting quite well to the move. She has extracted herself from Lab Rat’s hamper and is happily getting in the way of me carrying really heavy things around the house, so she’s back to normal. Once in awhile, I catch her looking at Lab Rat like, “Who the hell are you? And why are you running after me with this freaking comb?” LOL
As for me, I hurt all over and I cannot even make a fist because my hands are all bruised and swelled. Spen the a.m. putting together my new computer desk and CD rack, the latter of which promptly toppled and spilled my CDs twice (all 500 of them). Luckily, Lab Rat was around to save the CDs during the second implosion. Whew!!!
Have plans tonight. Yay, me!!! I was only here two hours yesterday and got a call. Woo Hoo!!!
Saw Charolette, EWB and CTL on Thursday for one last ghetto lunch special. It was great fun. Got to hear about all the bullshit that has ensued since my departure. Twit apparently tossed out all of my files. Dumb bitch. Haven’t heard from F/OM … I hope he isn’t afraid that because I still talk to Charolette and CTL, that I’d actually share any personal info of his, because it’s not like I have ever told him anything personal about them. I know F/OM was really close with a girl who worked there before me, Lisa, and I know they didn’t keep in touch. I don’t want that to happen with us. I know he’s super-busy, so I’ll forgive him for now. But I hope to see him again. Maybe I’ll send a friendly little email when I’m done with the blog.
I hear through the grapevine that Two Strikes has assigned Republican Woman to take over grantwriting, even though her hands are more than full with case aides and the adoption department. LOL. It would take at least two people to do my job effectively (not saying that I could handle it all on my own … if I could’ve cloned myself, I might have met HRP’s expectations … maybe!). It’s rather vindicating that grantwriting did not go back to the Twit, where it was supposed to be all along, because she’s a fucking idiot who can’t even speak like she was reared in America.
Boxes are still everywhere. I’ve accumulated beaucoup shit in my 10 years on my own. I’ve pitched so much, including furniture, and I still don’t know where I’m going to put everything.
I received a random email from someone who stumbled upon my site … it was quite a compliment, actually. I will respond soon, but I just want to tell my new friend that I am grateful for the words of support.
Song of the moment (because it’s playing on my CD player and it’s actually quite appropriate): “Everything Around Me is Changing,” by Sinead Lohan, from the “Anywhere But Here” soundtrack. Some lyrics (that I am certain I’ve butchered) that are stirring up a pot of bittersweetness:
“This high and mighty morning
Won’t save you anymore
You can scrape me from the floor
Everything around me is changing
…
And isn’t this always what I wanted
isn’t it just what I always wanted
this is only what I want
everything around me to be changing
and you can send
your letter
to the same address
…
and didn’t I say it in my own letter
I will always make it better
pull yourself over to me
everything except me is changing.”