Hello Everyone

Tuesday, 8 May 2012 20:52
fatrockstar: (Default)
I don't blog as often as I used to. Heck, if you wander around LiveJournal for a while you'll see there are a lot of accounts that haven't been updated in months -- that includes personal and community accounts. I couldn't tell you how many of those were still active on a private or friends-only level.

My last public post was in December when album #2 came out. Everything else has been under lock and key for very good reason. Without revealing too much I'll tell you this: I went through a pretty dark time this Winter. It wasn't until my birthday in March that I actually took the first step in doing something about it.

The band still practices once a week. We've been adding some covers to our songbook so we can play longer sets and maybe a few parties or corporate events. As far as new songs go there have been only a few that I think are worth recording, but I am my own worst critic in that department. Ron went through our rehearsal archives and found another album in there somewhere. To be honest I haven't had much I've wanted to write about. I am blocked by the inability to truly express myself without repercussion and a dullness in my imagination for songs that are more entertainment than art.

I still live in the house I bought with my ex back in '05. Now that I'm in a position to refinance my horrendous mortgage I'm finding myself dreaming at night of other, more interesting and charming places to live. The ex's needs chose this house. With him gone it's kinda dumb for me to stay here if it's going to make me go broke. We'll see what the refi terms are -- being able to make a few changes could make a difference.

Martha is not Grady. She does not snuggle and is afraid of nothing. She will, however, lie on the floor with her paws up so you can rub her belly. I really wish I knew what she was trying to tell me, though, because she never shuts up. I feel like if only we could get past that communication thing we'd be golden.

My hair is getting really long. It's still candy-apple red, but these days I have more pink at the temples. Once in a while the roots get long enough I can make out my natural color. Still too much silver, so I color everything red again.

I roll in waves. Some weeks I'm very content and others I just want to go on a long drive alone somewhere. My life is not horrible. There are people I miss and hope to see again. There are songs I need to write. Until then, I am still posting entries here under lockdown where the search engines won't bother them much.

If you have a blog or another web presence I should know about please tell me where to find it in the comments. Everything is screened since I have no idea who actually checks here outside of LJ anymore.
fatrockstar: (band)
Despite the Friday the 13th show date, our show up in Duvall turned out better than expected. We had planned about 50 minutes of music but ended up playing a little over an hour due to a mid-set request from the crowd to wait for a couple more people to arrive and a technical difficulty. Okay, two technical difficulties if you count me breaking Ron's tambourine during his performance of "Psycho Killer." I guess I need to cut back on those bicep curls.

The stage was brand-new, the grounds nice and green and surrounded by trees, and when night fell it was nothing but sky. Ken and I stuck around after Ron & Baz went home -- it turned out that Ken knew one of the property owners, so he wasn't totally our of his element there. I am pretty much night-blind and spent most of my time there by the bonfire. The only low point was realizing on the way home that I had been attacked mercilessly by mosquitoes! I have concentrations of bites on my feet that are making me crazy, and no amount of goo is helping. My guess is that they loved me because I have been going crazy with the sugar lately. I remember one summer when I was a kid I stopped drinking soda and the mosquito bites never happened.

Donnie is still back East -- none of us have heard from him since he headed out there this time, which is a little worrisome. I wrote him an email on Sunday letting him know how Friday's show went. I hope he's doing alright out there. Y'all send some strength to the Ivans, there's no such thing as sending too much love and strength during a difficult time.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫

Of course the heat hasn't helped. I know many of my friends in warmer climates may think it's no big deal to have the temperature hit 95, here it's very unusual. Every year I sit in my house and wonder if I should spring for the a/c upgrade, and every year I decide against it. During the entire summer we have a total of maybe ten days that get over 90, and all the rest of them can be managed with an hour or two or night air circulated through the house in the morning. I'll save my money for a new roof.

Right now I'm rather comfortable in front of my computer in shorts and a tee shirt. If I open any of the doors it will suck out all the cool air, so I'm stuck for a while. Grady is all flattened out on his favorite chair. I have a to-do list I have put off for too long and will work on that while waiting for responses to my followups and applications roll in.

That's about it.


Wednesday, 21 July 2010 15:33
fatrockstar: (Default)
Oh, the horrible drama that is my automobile. Around the time my last contract was ending (April, probably) I blew a coolant line. I fixed it without incident, but since then I have stopped driving to avoid getting a ticket for expired tabs. Two months of inactivity later, I fired up the engine only to have her run really rough. That can't be good for the emissions test I need to pass before renewing my tabs. I took her to the shop and they told me I had blown a head gasket. Crap.

I *just* put new brake shoes on this thing. Thank god it didn't cost me more than $70 to do so.

So the owner of this shop I took it to (Josh, the founder's son) gave me the news and what their standard procedure for head gasket leaks includes. It was thorough and expensive. He advised a few options, none of them involved going through with the repair.* I ended up doing some research online and talking to the mechanic that actually worked on my engine. I have to say, I am impressed. The mechanic's findings and explanations were almost word-for-word from my research.

I will have to do some work on the car myself if I want to drive her, and that includes the emissions test and new tabs. Until then I am still stuck walking or biking. At least it's good weather for it.

In the meantime my friend Amy wants to sell me her Cavalier for $1200, payable in installments. Her original email said it was a manual transmission -- I'd have to learn to drive a clutch all over again, unless she wrote that by mistake.

Tuesday was a cry-really-loud-and-scare-the-cat kinda day. I was very upset at the prospect of either a $2k repair bill or having to get rid of the car I'm so very attached to. Knowing I can probably fix it myself is encouraging.

It probably didn't hurt that I got email from two different recruiters with very promising opportunities in them. Close a door, open a window.

* The standard procedure included sending my engine head off to another garage to be pressure-tested for cracks. I'm pretty sure that's why the repair quote was so high. Josh said he couldn't in good conscience replace the head gasket for me if there could possibly be a crack and didn't want to see me waste my money. Finding a crack would only make the repair bill BIGGER.
fatrockstar: (madmen)
I ordered my eyeglasses on Saturday. My current benefits end at the end of this month, so I am taking full advantage of them. It's about time -- I've been with this agency through three contracts and paid for benefits without using them until now, so I don't feel the least bit guilty about the optical and dental appointments I've made now that I have the time for them.

The glasses themselves, well, I was told to go to Costco ("they have the best prices!") but they don't accept insurance. I was given a few places, really, but settled on LensCrafters. They take insurance and have a slightly larger selection of frames. I picked the most flattering nerd-glasses I could find and called it good. All in all, I paid about $150. I hear that's decent.

The only sucky thing is that I have to wait ten days for them to be finished. At this point in time my eyes are so beaten up from the poor hardware at my last job that I can barely look at a screen for more than an hour at a time. This includes television screens, computer screens, DS screens, movie screens... they all create problems, and the $20 readers you get at the drugstore aren't weak enough for the adjustment I need. I will do what I can online in one-hour increments and keep my fingers crossed that the glasses get finished early.

+ + + + + + +

In other news, my car is almost inoperable. The brakes chirp because I need new ones, and recently my engine has begun threatening to overheat unless I turn the heater on full blast. The brakes issue is the easy part. The engine temp is a tougher one to figure out -- the radiator is full and there are no leaks to be found. All the automobile knowledge in my head is no help, and until my next job I am unable to take it to a shop.

Not being able to drive is not new. A couple of summers ago I rode my bike almost everywhere and saved a fortune in gas (it was about $4/gallon then). The new challenge is figuring out how to pay for the bus to get me to the major areas where biking the entire way isn't practical. ORCA cards aren't nearly as much of a money saver as good old bus passes were.

+ + + + + + +

I was denied mortgage assistance because I could not "provide enough evidence of financial hardship." In other words, because I had $200 left over after my monthly expenses and had not missed a mortgage payment even when un- and under-employed, I'm ineligible. This sucks. I pretty much destroyed my credit for no reason by applying for assistance at all, and now I have nothing to show for it. I feel I'm justified in being angry about this. I worked very hard and made a lot of sacrifices to stay current in my payments -- this is my reward for being an honest citizen and trying to do the right thing. I shouldn't have to commit fraud to get the help I need.

+ + + + + + +

Those glasses can't get here soon enough. Seriously, they can't. I'm dividing my time between catching up on housework, taking care of band business, and job-hunting, and two of those things will require use of my eyes at 100% capacity.

The good news is that I know I will find something a lot sooner than I did the last time I was job hunting, and it will pay enough for me to catch up with everything I fell behind in during my last job.

If any of you local job-hunters find something that looks like a good fit and ISN'T at Microsoft (I'm not eligible to work there again until late August at the earliest), please feel free to send it my way.

It went fast

Wednesday, 20 January 2010 00:45
fatrockstar: (dragon)
Not even a day after posting it, my "I am Loved" plaque was purchased (thanks, Michelle!) I shared this news with a couple of the people who I had shown the finished product to, and they were a little bummed. "You should make more," they said. I will probably do that. I bought enough balsa wood for it. I like the whole "remind me of good things" theme.

There's a tin in my oven right now with a raised and "gilded" guitar design on its lid. The rest of it is covered in black and silver. Usually I line the inside of the tin with felt, but this time around I'm thinking something else would do. It's got a guitar on it, maybe a music emergency kit? I could insert some foam and include a 9v battery, some slots for picks, and an extra guitar string or something. I dunno. I'm just brainstorming here.

Tonight I finished a violet-and-gold heart-shaped pillow bead that I'm pretty proud of. It's on a satin cord now awaiting some clasps. I have another heart-shaped pillow bead necklace that is done and ready-to-go. I need to whip out the light box and start taking pictures. I know absolutely nothing about jewelry -- hopefully it's nice enough to get someone's attention.

Someone pointed out that there is a lot of testosterone in my house. Even the pets are male. Oh well. At least I'll never have to lift anything heavy or have to struggle for items on a high shelf.


Monday, 23 November 2009 23:10
fatrockstar: (The Man in Black)
Two weeks ago I put out a lawn waste bag with my garbage can for pickup. The garbage can was emptied, but they left the lawn waste bag, and then the crows pulled it apart. Yay. I ended up having to clean up a mess of birdseed, shredded paper, and weeds, put it in a new trash bag (that was way too small, but I made it fit), and stick THAT back into the garbage can for the next week's pickup. It took up almost the entire can.

The next week we had a small windstorm, so the garbage didn't get taken out. More garbage accrued.

In the meantime, Grady's litter box was in need of a full change -- not just the remove-the-clumps-add-more-litter type, either -- because it was beginning to STINK. There had been no room in the garbage can to do such a thing, but I was left no choice. I needed to call Waste Management about putting out an extra can.

The girl on the phone was nice and answered all my questions, but informed me that my garbage collection had been canceled at the end of August. Because I had paid my bill eight days late, online, the service wasn't automatically reinstated. Apparently it is policy that online payers have to make a phone call to get their service back. It sucks, but oh well. I had her restart service and arrange to have a second can picked up.

But how did my garbage get picked up all in all the weeks since? The girl wasn't sure, because once my service was terminated THEY REPO'D MY TRASH CAN. Suddenly things made a lot of sense. For your convenience, I will recap:

My neighbor's trash can had no house number on it, but mine did. This summer she started sending her 6-year-old to retrieve their can from the curb, and because the garbage guys have a tendency to throw cans instead of putting them back where they found them the boy would grab the closest one to him -- mine. I complained to my neighbor, who instructed her son to knock it off. A month later I came home to find that he had yet again taken the wrong can. As I had done many times before, I took my neighbor's can, grumbled, and waited for the next week.

The next week I took her can to the curb filled with my garbage. Instead of MY can at her curb, there was a new can with HER house number on it. My can was nowhere to be found.

Can you see where the mystery suddenly became clear? For the last two months the garbage men have been emptying my can and hers, believing that both of them were hers. This is the ONLY reason they have been picking up my trash. The new can was because I had taken hers not realizing that it wasn't her son that took my can, it was Waste Management. She hasn't bothered to come by to talk to me about it. If anything, she's been avoiding me, and probably because I confronted her son about the damn cans to begin with instead of coming to her first -- something that wouldn't have happened if she was ever home.

I have garbage service again, and that's all I really care about right now. That, and Grady having a spanky clean litter box.
fatrockstar: (hello)
If you donated to Grady's vet fund and have not received a sculpture from me, please do not fret -- I miscalculated and had to go back into production mode. They should go out soon. In the meantime please take solace in knowing that your generosity is much appreciated, even as Grady plays his nightly OH NO I'M IN THE WRONG ROOM game like his tail is on fire.

Next weekend is going to be a little crazy. I am participating in the town Junk In Your Trunk rummage sale at Juanita Beach this Saturday. There is so much to get rid of... I had no idea. I've been decluttering this house with a little more determination for the last couple of years and managed to fill up half of my garage with furniture, knicknacks, dinnerware, and other items I haven't used in ages AND a bunch of stuff that could only be what Garret abandoned when he moved out. The things I think I can cash in on are working their way to eBay and Craigslist. The rest will be at the JIYT rummage sale.

A while back I submitted my resume through a site called JobFox. Last week I got an email letting me know that as a "member" I was entitled to a free resume critique, no strings attached. The good news: I am a qualified program manager. The bad news: My resume doesn't express that as clearly as I think it does. According to my resume I'm a "doer" and not an "achiever." This makes sense to me, actually. I've been contracting for so long I still write my resume like a contractor. "This is what I did at my last job. This is what I did at the job before that. This is what I can do." instead of "I'm an awesome manager because I took action and made changes that people benefited from. Let me tell you how cool that is." It probably doesn't help that I'm still on the lean side of experience in my new management career and have been relying on an old resume format. I gotta get on that.

It was a nice weekend. There was a strange smell coming from one of the rooms I don't go in very often and I tracked it down and REMOVED IT. It is now in the garage. Don't ask.

I paid a bunch of bills. Now it's time to tighten the belt again.
fatrockstar: (hello)
The shifting crawlspace door was a wake-up call from the universe that the entire closet needed attention. After vacuuming and taking certain icky things to the backyard to hose them down I was able to lift the carpet cover and re-set it. I must have stepped on that door just right to get it to shift the way it did.

Grady is back to his old energy levels, and has decided that Ethan is the go-to guy for noms. Why? Because Ethan will feed Grady people food, that's why! I just discovered this last night as I walked in on him picking up his cereal bowl from the floor, with Grady licking his chops contentedly. Me, I just do kibble and that crap from a can -- what kind of two-leg am I if I can't share the good stuff?

Apparently Ethan and Grady have bonded during this period of unemployment and fatty liver recovery. I guess things could be worse.

+ + + + + + + +

I'm pretty much out of a lot of the supplies to continue taking care of Grady's neck. It's been a long time since I've fed him through that tube regularly, and I'm constantly interrupting his attempts to scratch at it. I will go to the drugstore on my way home and restock, but I really can't wait until the tube is out and we can focus on just getting him closed up.

While it's really cute that he's so cooperative about getting his neck cleaned and redressed, it's a little disturbing to walk away when I'm done only to find him still sitting on the washing machine ten minutes later like he's waiting for permission. I say "down, Grady" and he responds with «are you sure?» Yes, I'm sure -- get down. «I don't really want to, it's a big drop...» Grady, down. «Oh, all right. [jumps down] I still think you missed something. Where's my skritches?»

This conversation and others like it happen all the time. He's very talkative.

Thursday morning we go back to see Dr. Vaughn. Maybe then we can make arrangements to have that tube removed.


Monday, 24 August 2009 10:42
fatrockstar: (Default)
As I was clearing out a football-sized clump of cat pee from Grady's litterbox (didn't I just clean this thing?) my foot nearly went through the floor. There wasn't a lot I could do to fix it then and there, because my morning time is NOT flexible, but Grady isn't heavy enough to aggravate it further so I'm putting it off until I get home tonight.

I don't have a rotted hole in my floor. What I have is a crawlspace cover that has somehow become dislodged or unseated, or the wood underneath holding it up has shifted or weakened. Grady's litterbox is in the hall closet where the crawlspace entry is.

This development makes cleaning the litterbox a little more complicated, since at least one of my feet is on that crawlspace cover during the process. Whether I pull the box out of the closet or reach farther is not the issue -- either way, my back will be strained. It doesn't help that the doors on this closet don't move easily. To try and figure this shit out when I had zero time to work on it would have woken Ethan up rather rudely.

I hate Mondays. I always have a Monday night commitment, and something always comes up to make that commitment incredibly inconvenient to keep.
fatrockstar: (hello)
Feedings have become calmer while dressing changes have become more stressful.

The twice-daily feedings are done with him in my lap, facing me, while I gently count to 60 aloud before plunging 5mL of slurry into his feeding tube. It takes about eight to ten of these counts for food, followed by one for the 10mL of water to flush it through. He's still not eating on his own despite having dry food available. I moved the bowl of kibble closer to him and he just kinda looked at it, thinking about it. At least he didn't gag. The mere appearance of an unopened can of gushyfud will illicit a gag response from him, so making wet food available is not an option.

Ethan's absence has provided Grady with a dry shower to hang out in. I have tried a few times to get him to sit on the sofa or the bed with me, but he isn't interested. When he gets to the sofa he escapes to the window sill, and then to the floor, and back to the shower. If I bring him to the bed at night, he'll stay there for a few minutes, but he's not lovey like he used to be. He will sit in cat loaf pose until he's had enough of that, then go back to the shower.

Slowly I am trying to re-acclimate him to other parts of the house. After two days of trying to get him to hang out anywhere other than the shower or under my bed he has finally settled for a few minutes in front of the open sliding glass door. I put him there.

Oh, wait -- I wrote too soon. He's on his way back to the shower now. Darn. He used to love sitting in the open sliding glass door, sniffing the outside and yowling from time to time. I was hoping that he would remember that, and I'd hear him talk to the backyard again. No such luck.

Ethan returns on Sunday night. This means I have a limited amount of time to draw Grady out of the shower and back to his old haunts.

I am inclined to believe that whatever Grady is going through is an advanced response to stress. A lot has happened in the last three months, and we all know that he's very finely tuned to me and my stress. I won't lie -- my stress has been gargantuan, and all at once. Grady's is a little different, because not only does he sense my stress, he also has Ethan, his 8-year-old son, and his bird to adjust to. Then there was looking for work, money woes, some personal drama, and some health issues I had to deal with. It's enough stress for a person. I can't imagine what it's like for a cat.

Donations keep coming in, and I am immensely grateful. The thank you gifts I've been constructing will most likely get baked this week and sent out to those who contributed. With the heat wave we had last week it was impossible to do anything but bitch and moan, much less turn on any heat or focus on a creative task. At one point I sat in front of my computer with my feet in a cooler full of ice covered by a towel. Oh man, did that feel good...

This weekend is all about Grady, making sure he eats and is reacquainted with the rest of the house. I'm doing some major cleaning while I have the house to myself. It's a Zen thing for me, not a chore. If I can't do it I get tetchy. Having a clean house is just a pleasant side-effect.
fatrockstar: (Default)
I am AGAIN recovering from food poisoning. My last bout of it sent me to the ER in February after eating the cherry that topped off my fancy restaurant hot chocolate. I knew better than to eat it after seeing the girl fish it out of the container with her bare hands, but was stupid. Campylobacter infections are painful, and there is no treatment other than forced rehydration and to let it run its course.

This time around I ate something that produced awful side effects, but luckily no trip to the ER this time. Just like my previous incident, I knew something wasn't quite right about its preparation but ate it anyway. I consider myself fortunate that my body is healthy enough to know when and how to get rid of poison, even if I have to suffer for it to do so.

So now I sit here, not really able to eat much, but feeling a lot better anyway.

It's very quiet here right now. The sun is shining in from the sliding glass door, and a raccoon is watching me from the fence. Grady is avoiding me. I need to clean up around here. It's been too long since I've been strong enough to do that, or since I've had time.

More things go up on Craigslist today. Wish me luck. I have sold only one thing there, ever.
fatrockstar: (poon)
I finally replaced the light bulbs in my side-runner lights on the Blazer. I took off the front grille, twisted a few things, cursed at dropping screws into an impossible part of the chassis that required me to fabricate a magnet on a stick to retrieve them from, and when I was done, I talked to my neighbor.

One of my neighbor's dogs dug a hole big enough under her back fence that he could get out of the yard. He has run away. His companion was not so adventurous and stayed. I am told that she does not like to go out into the yard alone any more. Poor goggie. They looked all over for the runaway but weren't able to find him. Now she is prepping her house for sale.

Didn't see either of those developments coming.

Ethan and Flea

Monday, 27 April 2009 16:37
fatrockstar: (jokermartha)
Ethan is now my housemate. He's living in the master bedroom with his bird, Flea. Flea has been his buddy since he was 10, and he's a card. Totally emerald green with some interesting red spots on him, he's sequestered in Ethan's room behind closed doors, waiting for him to get home. Occasionally he'll screech, but for the most part he's just hanging out...

A couple of months ago Ethan joked with me that he'd need a place to stay since he was running out of money. Turns out he wasn't really joking. He's here, my television has been boxed up and taken to the garage, and now he just needs to settle in and realize that MY WII HAS SENIORITY AND WILL RULE THEM ALL.


Anyway, we're settling in with the pet issues. Grady's never seen a bird like Flea. Flea lorded over Grady, but was totally freaked out by Teamun's excited turtle-y swimming. Ethan is dealing with a mild cat dander allergy, and I'm vacuuming and washing everything I can.

It should be an interesting week.
fatrockstar: (Default)
Do you have a ladder and a broom so I can remove moss from your roof this weekend?

has got to be THE sexiest thing any man has EVER said to me.
fatrockstar: (Default)
While looking for a boarder to take in I met a nice woman with an old lapdog who needed a place to stay. Grady is not going to enjoy living with another mammal (@#!!), so this won't work.

If there's anyone out there who can think of somewhere or someone with a housemate/roommate situation that would be friendly to this person's doggie, please comment here or contact me. She's got a few leads, but the dog is a dealbreaker for a lot of people and I really don't want to separate someone from their pet unless they're my sister. My sister has too many damn animals.
fatrockstar: (Default)
I'm still looking for a housemate/boarder. Attempts to advertise for one have failed. Rent negotiable, half utilities, must be willing to clean up after self.

I don't know how much longer I can stay in this house by myself. I'd rather not board a complete stranger.
fatrockstar: (WTF?)
I sent an email to Garret a week or so ago regarding the divorce and taxes. Usually I will hear back from him, but this time... silence. No "fuck you," no "where's my [insert something he could have bothered to ask for here]," no "I have no idea what you're talking about." I don't care if he's a new uncle, if he broke his leg, if he's depressed, or if he won the lotto -- this is important, and I am NOT going to pay for his laziness anymore. I'm done with that crap.

"So Wynne," you ask, "why don't you just re-file the papers yourself and get it over with? Isn't it worth it to not have to think about him ever again?" Maybe, but that's not the point.

Everything I have ever asked Garret to do, and every responsibility Garret has ever had for others has been ignored or argued about. During the marriage I would jump through every little hoop he threw out to "ask the right way," and it almost always resulted in me giving up and doing it myself. The only things Garret ever did when I asked him to were "take out the garbage" and "come eat." I'm not doing this one for him. He's the one that put me through the ringer. He's the one that ruined everything. He's the one that decided to leave. This is one mess I refuse to clean up.

Plus, I don't have the money to re-file. I'm about to make a big decision soon whether or not to walk away from this house. I can't afford to sell it.

Have I mentioned I'm not going to clean up after him this time? I don't think I've hammered that point home enough.
fatrockstar: (pika)
We're all very excited about playing the High Dive. It sucks that it's a Sunday, but oh well. I asked Ed to promote the show, and he gave me an excuse. Gosh, that didn't stop him from promoting the Tuesday show for his other band. I understand that he has spread himself thin these days and it's catching up with him, but now is not the time to go all cornflakes on me.

Discovered a headlight out on the truck. Yay! One more thing to repair.

I was hopeful about taxes this year, but since the paperwork originally filed with King County was not actually a legal separation, I'm not even legally separated. If we were that, both of us could file as single. I called and verified this with King County. No divorce on file, no separation on file. The next step is to call the IRS. Fun! Of course, I'm the only one investigating this, because I'm the one with a lot to lose. Garret doesn't care and never will. He's a brick.

I put together two songs for rehearsal tonight, and the guys didn't pick up on it like I'd hoped. They still sounded great, but not like I had them in my head. I will play around with my keyboard and guitar a little more, see if I can record a scratch.

I'm looking for people who will help me promote the show at the High Dive -- putting up flyers in their offices and around their neighborhoods, telling friends, posting on blogs, etc. I want to get this year off to a good start. I have to. In this economy, all I have is the band. I may be a sucky composer, but at least I enjoy what I do.

Six days until I leave for Tybee. I'm very excited! I need to call Allison and make arrangements. I've been cleaning like mad because she said she'd stay overnight with him a couple of times. He will be thrilled at that. At least I hope he will anyway...
fatrockstar: (cookie monster)
I should get into the habit of not being on the computer while talking to people on the phone unless I am looking up something for them.

The local paper reports that the storm wasn't as bad as predicted and the worst has passed. Now we just have to become comfortable with having a white Christmas and try not to kill each other out on the roads.

In the meantime there are thousands of people just like me who can't afford to not go to work on the three days of the week surrounding the Christmas holiday. I also can't go see Miss Judy, and can't do a number of things I had planned to do in the days before the world stands still. There is one thing I will be doing on Monday that no one can stop me from doing, and that's making a delivery of merchandise to a fellow in Everett who wants to give his wife a happy surprise on Christmas morning. I made a promise and intend to keep it.

I worry more about my habit of isolating myself than I do about relating to other people. I'm fine relating to others, it's creating the situation that is difficult. I wonder if it's just me, if I would do the same thing somewhere else.

Today is my 6th wedding anniversary. Garret didn't appear in court, so the petition was dismissed. I haven't seen him in a year.

I need to get rid of this house.
fatrockstar: (The Man in Black)
With the winter storm warning changed into a "cold weather warning" I am a little distressed. I can handle snow. Snow is insulating. Snow doesn't make the crack in my windshield worse, or cause any of my pipes to rupture. It also doesn't come with a shitload of wind. I don't know what concerns me more, the wind or needing to protect my pipes. If either one of those goes worst-case-scenario I have no idea what I'll do.

First of all, I need to wrap/insulate the outdoor spigots. I couldn't find any of those styrofoam caps at the Freddy's and was too tired to look elsewhere so I came home. I figure I will take a couple of old towels and wrap things up. It's the least I can do, right? I have no idea what I'm doing here.

I came home to the front spotlight out, again. If I get another bulb and it's also a short-timer I'm going to think someone is fucking with it. I also realized that I didn't get my lawn guy to clear out my gutters. They are full of leaves and the blockage is creating icy waterfalls off the eaves of my house.

It's warm inside, though. That's good. Sometimes I enjoy being a homeowner and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I think the only thing that keeps me here is the sad fact that I hate to move and have way too much of Garret's shit to get rid of. I'm still pretty irritated at that.

I'm not hungry enough to go to the store. No ice cream for me.