Caterwauling

I have a desk drawer that’s filled with greeting cards. Birthdays. Babies. Anniversaries. Thinking-of-Yous. Condolences. Thank-yous. Etc. Overflowing.

Now, I never buy stamps. Because I cannot tell you where the G.D. post office even is for my ZIP code. And the cards? Remain unmailed. Some I’ve actually written in, but most didn’t warrant the effort because I neither had postage with which to mail them nor a place to mail them.

I do, however, have stamps out the wazoo from previous eras when they cost a lot less. But instead of keeping them, I’ve tossed them into the void as I’ve uncovered them, mostly because they ended up stuck to whatever was thrown into the moving boxes with them.

I drove around half of Rockville today trying to find a G.D. mailbox. I know where the post office is — I just don’t really care to go fight for a parking spot. I figured mailing the card in my possession — stamped! — could coincide with other errands. Not so much.

I fear the mailboxes have disappeared thanks to geniuses (genii?) like me who are willing to stick a book of stamps to their ass and get shipped anywhere but where they are. And I’m totally fine with paying the book rate — I’m all about a month-long journey to nowhere.

It just kills me that yet another card is destined for the all-encompassing void of the Desk Drawer of Good Intentions. Because you know the day I do stumble upon a mailbox, I’m not even going to remember the card I so lovingly filled out today. …

… And I don’t. …

Have been busy with work. (Shocker, I know!) Mostly it’s good but the occasional color-me-unimpressed moment tends to bug me perhaps more than it should.

Oh well. This coming Thursday is Chocolate Day (I thought it was today. Rats), in which we import enough of the addictive stuff to feed every animal in the National Zoo (perhaps not the worst analogy here) and we feed from the river o’ chocolate all damn day. Which entails a lot of bouncing off walls and unbuttoning of pants, because WHO NEEDS REAL FOOD WHEN YOU HAVE CHOCOLATE?

I was mistaken and assumed Chocolate Day was today. Because, really, a girl needs something to look forward to. And come to think of it, I’m working off-site next week, so I shall miss the delightful festival o’ calories. I had been wondering, actually, how to bake/buy for it when I get home after 8 p.m. every night. Shit, my contribution to Chocolate Day would have to be bringing a friend because who the fuck has time to assemble anything? I mean, until there’s a drive-thru that serves chocolate (oh, I can dream), I can’t contribute anything but my taste buds.

Speaking of morale-boosters, tomorrow is our very first (and only) day we can wear jeans. And it’s pretty sad — I was looking at my closet and saw 30 pairs of jeans and at least 40 jeanskirts. I used to be called “The Denim Queen” (mostly after I lost my “One Night Stand Queen” tiara although I wouldn’t say I’ve gone on to bigger and better things. *sniff*). I miss being able to either go out after work or at least wear jeans to work regularly. There’s a whole half of my walk-in closet that goes virtually ignored because it’s casual wear.

I’m hoping everybody behaves well and dresses nicely in jeans tomorrow, and I hope our productivity is as good as ever so that maybe I can get to access the far reaches of my neglected closet with more frequency. Although it is probably more likely that Chocolate Day will move from being an annual event to a daily one. …