April 18, 2006:
I STINK!
Seriously, P.U. You can tell it’s springtime when my lack of personal hygiene really starts to bite back. I definitely need a bath, but it’s already 7pm, Ron’s sleeping (he pulled an all-nighter & finally crashed about an hour ago), I’m not expecting any company, and I’ve got a TON of cleaning to do. I hate taking a bath when I know I’m about to get really dirty. I’ll save it for the end of the night, right before bed. Besides, being stinky always makes me feel oddly defiant and amused, like not shaving my pits to irritate my dad when I was in college.
Hey, guess what? I’m going to be a maid of honor, how do you like that! Rebecca & Curt are getting all married up next April. I’m stupidly excited about it. Other people’s weddings are so much fun! All of the hostessing and craftiness, none of the stress! This time, I’ll try not to gain so much weight after my fitting that I have to wear a corset so tight it bruises my ribs for two weeks just to keep from splitting the seams. That sentence was a mess, but I’m in no mood for diagramming.
I’m not supposed to tell anyone that Ron found tinfoil in his ear yesterday. It was the part they couldn’t get out from when he stuffed a bunch of tinfoil into his ear when he was six. And now, every time he cleans his ears: more tinfoil. Now, I can resist showing you the magnified scan of said tinfoil I made yesterday, but I can not resist talking about it, because–what if he’s really a robot? He does have a stronger-than-average preoccupation with robots, and certainly likes to do the Robot. What if he’s a robot and his inner robot ear is starting to wear out, and the control base made up the tinfoil memory to explain it, while they send some nanobots to do the repair? That might also explain why he didn’t sleep last night. Poor thing. He doesn’t even know he’s a robot. He’s sleeping (rebooting) right now, so I’m in no real peril, but if they find me later, crushed to death by steely robot hands, you’ll send someone to make sure he gets reprogrammed, won’t you?
Well, I hope he’s not a robot, but if he is, I would really like him to get a math upgrade, because I can never find a calculator when I need one.
Speaking of math, I had a little episode of yarnish backsliding last week. I finally got my advance check and decided to buy myself a big pile of yarn before it was all gone. But really, I went terribly overboard. I mean, I won’t even have time to knit until after the prom, and then I’ll just be knitting/crocheting freelance pattern stuff all month. Which reminds me: I need to decide on my yarns for Miss Vickie’s book. I need a more exciting habit, don’t I? But I don’t like coke or prostitution, and stealing is wrong. And I’m not a daredevil and I don’t like Hummel figurines and I’m too plump to be a confident exhibitionist. So where does that leave me? Under an avalanche of yarn, that’s where.
Yesterday, a very friendly fellow called Hal dropped by with some excellent old Harveyville High School yearbooks for us to scan. I think my favorite picture is from something called Queen’s Court, a basketball queen (you know, like a prom queen or a homecoming queen, but for some basketball game). There’s a very mondo (well, mondo for Kansas, anyway) girl looking wonderfully put-upon, with her tall, lanky king looking serious as a heart attack. They could be a movie poster of wicked teens hiding a terrible secret. I might blow it up and use it as the background for prom pictures. We eventually want to make copies of all the yearbooks from when this was a school. With Dick’s, that’s 3 down, just 61 to go. Except that we haven’t actually scanned them yet, so it’s really still 64 to go.
I need an intern.
