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Pookie SMASH.
Oct. 31st, 2002 09:39 amNext time I have the genius idea of throwing a party on a Friday (when I can't take any days off that week), kick me in the head until it goes away.
Tried to fit in a store run last night before the game; usually this will take at least 45 minutes, but hey, I'm a master of supermarket technique, so I can do in half an hour (especially since it was Just What's On The List, Dammit). Wrong!
First, traffic from hell. It was snaining last night so everyone forgot how to drive. Then, when I got there, I was not in my groove; I have succeeded in surgical strikes on the store before, but I was a goddamn mooncalf last night. And, for the crowning joy, I checked out (of course choosing the incompetent slow line), only to find I'd forgotten my wallet. Snarl.
I have declared Beth the patron saint of Oct. 30th. She drove up to the store with my wallet, did a little dance to cheer me up, made dinner, put the groceries away, made spaghetti sauce for Saturday, and cleaned the kitchen--all before heading back to Orange to do the stuff _she_ needed to get done. Which is also why I didn't at all begrudge the call from her after we'd gone to bed needing comfort on poor ol' Squirvler's account. His tumor is now extremely visible and his breathing has gotten worse (I hadn't thought that possible). This may be a difficult Thanksgiving, in more ways than anticipated.
Today, I got up and looked at the list of tasks yet to be done: ARGH.
Tried to fit in a store run last night before the game; usually this will take at least 45 minutes, but hey, I'm a master of supermarket technique, so I can do in half an hour (especially since it was Just What's On The List, Dammit). Wrong!
First, traffic from hell. It was snaining last night so everyone forgot how to drive. Then, when I got there, I was not in my groove; I have succeeded in surgical strikes on the store before, but I was a goddamn mooncalf last night. And, for the crowning joy, I checked out (of course choosing the incompetent slow line), only to find I'd forgotten my wallet. Snarl.
I have declared Beth the patron saint of Oct. 30th. She drove up to the store with my wallet, did a little dance to cheer me up, made dinner, put the groceries away, made spaghetti sauce for Saturday, and cleaned the kitchen--all before heading back to Orange to do the stuff _she_ needed to get done. Which is also why I didn't at all begrudge the call from her after we'd gone to bed needing comfort on poor ol' Squirvler's account. His tumor is now extremely visible and his breathing has gotten worse (I hadn't thought that possible). This may be a difficult Thanksgiving, in more ways than anticipated.
Today, I got up and looked at the list of tasks yet to be done: ARGH.
