Real horrorshow (Day 104)

Well, not horrorshow that it's day 104; the countdown is just there to orient myself, the descriptor.... Well.

I've come to realize, after my post about the burgeoning power of the Pallid Bosom that there is a certain...lack of perspective in my mind. See, I never really thought the Pallid Bosom was particularly of note (in fact, it doesn't even rate in the Top 10 of my personal favorite body parts, getting edged out by my feet, and I'm one of those people who thinks feet are pretty ugly as a rule), so I assumed that no one else would find PB to be of any note, either. Apparently, this particular blind arrogance and assumption of what others would think has led to my inadvertently, uh, flashing (for lack of a better term) several people. Apparently, my friends have always found this behavior amusing--perhaps in a 'she's so naive and isn't it cute!' sort of way--and seem to think I might have been doing it on purpose. Mmmm, no. I just think very little of my bosom, therefore I assume no one else thinks much of it, either. It's not like I go out of my way to point it out, and I do rather take it for granted, so it's like...my nose. I don't assume people are going to be vaguely transfixed by my nose, so I don't go out of my way to either enhance or detract from it. The Bosom, like my nose, is just there. I really pay it very little attention. Actually, since I sort of go along assuming people are going to be repelled by me anyway, I try not to think too hard about myself and the impression I'm making on others. Being low on the self-esteem has an unintended side effect: I'm not as invisible as I'd assumed. I'm going to have to work on that, and hope it doesn't make me painfully self-conscious.

In other news, I've not gone hysterical three days into what has already been referred to as my Debtor's Prison Period, although I'm having a time trying to find patience. I'm historically very short on patience. Too much of a perfectionist, too hard on myself. Well, I've got four months (almost) of nothing but time to learn patience and a bunch of other crap that, I'm sure, will be spiritually edifying. I'm really not going to like it, am I. Oh, well. What's done is done and I have no choice but to let my Wyrd unfold as it may. Let's just hope I made the right choice!

I'm sure I'll be able to keep myself occupied with my stash, planning what to do with my stash, looking at my stash, taking yarn out, fondling it and putting it back in the stash, and (if the mood strikes) knitting stuff with my stash. I think I'm more a pervy yarn fancier than knitter, actually, since I could take skeins and balls and hanks and just...keep them as they are, and be perfectly happy and feel the money well spent. It might be part of why my stash has grown to such epic proportions; I don't want to be stash-less. I would be metaphorically naked without my stash. I feel vulnerable when my stash drops. Yet, oddly enough, I'm not a hysterically fast knitter, and I read more evenings than I knit, so it's not like I could actually work through my entire stash in four months (104 days--well, practically 103, since I've already done my knitting for the night and am ready to turn in.) I'll be lucky to even finish up two of the four projects I've got on needles at moment, not counting the two or three in the stashbin that I've had needles in forever. I'm getting weirder by the day! Or not; it's entirely possible that this is perfectly normal behavior, and I just don't realize it because I don't know anyone else who possesses a stash that they are reluctant to use. I may be a member of the silent majority--who knows who else carries the shame of stash love!

We have storms at the moment, and are getting more later tonight. I really should get off this computer, unplug it and go to bed. I'm not keen on this thought, as the sooner I go to bed, the sooner it is tomorrow, since tomorrow is really just more of what I had today (except with the addition of Ghost Hunters on Sci-Fi Channel, which does make Hump Day a little more pleasurable in the long run), and I'm in no great hurry to repeat today. I really need to figure out what the hell I could possibly be suited for--although I begin to suspect it's nothing--so I can get my career sorted for a while. Or at least figure out what I can do for a living that I might suceed at, since I truly suck at what I do at present. And I'm not saying that because today was our main Monthly Spanking at work (I actually have improved my performance in the past month; I'm still clocking a negative balance in the overall, but I'm clocking smaller and smaller deficits by the month. At this rate, I should be back in the positive by next month, and that's all to the good.) I'm saying that because I'm tired of feeling...ungrounded. I would desperately like to know that I'm of use to someone, somewhere, if only myself, in some fashion, and maybe feel like I know vaguely what I'm doing, instead of just flapping around, all at sixes and sevens.

And why sixes and sevens? Why not eights and nines? Why do I get distracted by things like that, instead of finding joy in something sensible?*

Oy. I need an aspirin and a shower. And then bed.

*And, just because I'm a nerd: There's an actual reason why it's at sixes and sevens. Now I can sleep easy!

Pray for me

I just adjusted my debt payments. I am now seriously entailed until September. Sweet Jesus, what was I thinking?

Breathe, breathe, breathe. I can do this. I can do this. I can.

I need some chocolate ice cream now.

Time, time, time, see what's become of me

Sorry, I'm in a very '80s mood at present. It's been a weird two weeks. Well, week and change, it's not going to be two weeks since my last post for...three more days.

Last week was interesting. I had a few moments of surprising personal strength and growth, and came out of the whole kerfaffle feeling a bit stronger, a bit more solid within myself for it. I managed to overcome two decades of learned insecurity and actually enjoyed a bit of male attention without feeling threatened or mocked; I actually felt a bit flattered. I may have to find some low-cut blouses to repeat the experience. Well, some more low cut blouses, actually. I have at least one, obviously.

That paragraph will read strangely, but if you lived in my head, it would be perfectly reasonable to feel mocked and vaguely threatened by male attention. I was that girl in high school that everyone made fun of and the guys teased mercilessly for being ugly. I sort of gave up on men by the time I was 20, which is sad, when you think about it. This latest round of therapy has helped me come to terms with and actively mourn my past, and once one has taken their past in to themselves and embraced it, one can let it go. For once, I didn't think a verbal slap was going to follow the initial tease, and it felt nice to just...I dunno, be treated like a girl. Even if I am way past the age at which 'girl' is an appropriate descriptor. I even found myself (rather tipsily; I confess, there was a bottle of Soft Red in me well before lunchtime) thinking to myself that if that one guy, who I really have no interest in beyond the (frankly) "he flirts, he's cute, and he might do for some amusement, although I wouldn't actually date him because he's completely toxic to me, but I can see where some woman somewhere would benefit from him" sort of level of attraction had followed me into the office when I went inside to eat lunch and change out of my Goth Doxy costume (yes, it was a costume event; don't ask, just accept), I would have let him take advantage of me. An action, by the way, which would have been heartily approved of by upper management. I think I work for the only company that not only openly encourages employee relationships, but has its own eugenics program. They take pride in the marriages that they've inspired. Personally, I find it a bit depressing. If you're at the office so much that the only available dating pool is puddled around your cube, then maybe you should get out of the office more. But perhaps that's just me.

Anyway, drunk or not, thinking about a little supply closet lovin' (and not in a 'heh, yeah, that will happen--like nevar!!!1!!' but in all seriousness and, perhaps, a bit of wistfully) is a huge leap forward for me. My mental corsets are coming off, and oh, boy, I'm sure it's going to get all interesting up in here. Heh, heh, heh. I can see it all becoming a total dog's breakfast, but I'm actually enjoying the thought. My life is far, far too orderly and predictable. I need some good, old fashioned chaos to liven things up. And isn't that a strange thought for me!

So. I got to thinking again (which is dangerous in my present state of mind, which feels very, very familiar yet ever so strange) about what holds me back. What stains my pride. In order:
--my debt and living situation
--the pale flab rolls over my knees
--my absolutely abysmal cardiovascular, which all but guarantees that if I had gotten some closet lovin', it would have, of necessity, would have been brief, because I simply haven't got the endurance.

So (again.) I think to myself, Self, why not go all out? You've got a safety net (sorta) of savings, you've thisclose to paying off the Regret Debt of your 20's (but not the student loans; I'll be in my sixties before I get those paid off). If you push, absolutely beggar yourself, you can pay off those debts in four months. Anyone can do almost anything for four months! People have survived death camps for longer than four months; if they can do that, you can survive this, you big puss. And if something goes wahoonie shaped, you've got savings and/or you can always scale your payments back (although it's automated; once I set it, I'll leave it set.)

And, hey, since you won't be going anywhere and you'll be living on the food you get as part of the deal you've got with the 'rents (food and board and the occasional Starbucks hit, when Mom wants one), you can take the same four months and get into an exercise habit, too. You won't be paying to get yourself into movies, you won't be driving much (ouch), you won't be buying any yarn (yes, I've been bad and building stash--perhaps it was a nesting behavior, like pregnant women do; I built my stash because I felt the yarn drought coming on). You might as well start eating like a college student again (in as minute a quantity as you did as a student--it worked then, why not now?) and save up calories as well as cash and do the two birds one stone thing? And then in September, when you get your first unencumbered paycheck in fifteen years, go out and get some nice, new, low cut tops. You'll have a sense of pride since you've decreased both the debt and the fat rolls over the knees, you'll have increased your cardio capacity from walking/doing exercise tapes/crunching yourself into oblivion instead of shopping for yarn, and you can use the low cut tops to attract something with which to enjoy that brand new cardio capacity and maybe in your own apartment again. God, not since I made the fateful decision to go back to grad school has that thought crossed my mind!

It seems like a win-win sort of thing to me. And, the best part, it's only four months. Surely, surely, I have the nuts to do this. I read an article today that suggested that when you're doing something uncomfortable or new, instead of counting up to a date (starting on Day 1), count down to the end date (start at Day 120.) It gives you a better metric of how far you've gone, and the "down" aspect to the count encourages you to keep going, because it seems that the load is getting smaller and smaller (which it is.) Yes, it's a question of semantics, but I'm going to be living tighter than I have ever before for the next four months (starting June 10th), so I will play whatever little mind games I have to to keep myself sane. I just have to keep my eyes on the prize and keep thinking It's only four months, it's only four months and before I know it, it will be over and I'll have improved my life.

Bonus recipe: Poor Man's Soyless Stir Fry (which I just invented today. Go me! Only called "poor man's" because I used stuff I've had in the fridge for ages, so it was probably more like "Cleaning Out The Fridge Before The Stuff Goes Completely Off And Starts To Smell Rank Soyless Stir Fry", but that hasn't got the same ring)

1 chicken breast, skin on or off, whatever floats you
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar (splurge on this stuff; you don't usually need this much and the bottle will last)
3 cups cooked brown rice
chopped onion, red/green/yellow peppers, chopped celery (I used the leftover and wilting pre-diced packets we used for a macaroni salad--I'd say about two to two and a half cups of diced veg in all-use whatever you prefer, but this mix gave it a more Oriental flavor)
oil for the pan (I used olive; please yourself on this, but I think it makes the balsamic a bit sweeter)

Chop your chicken breast up into bite-sized chunks and soak in vinegar until it takes on a dark color--mine went all day thawing in the vinegar, but I'd say...at least half an hour. Cook your rice to package specs and set aside for later. Heat the oil and wilt your veggies over medium high heat in a high sided pan, stirring. Right before they get to the soft and translucent stage (call it "al dente", which is a ridiculous distinction in veggies, but it's how I think of it), toss in the chicken. Push the chicken to the bottom of the pan and bury it in the veggies (just for fun), cook until it's white all the way through while stirring (I cut open the biggest chunk in the pan to test)--this takes between 5-10 minutes. Seriously here: don't do this over high heat. The vinegar has a lot of sugar in it and it will burn. Keep it moving, keep the heat lower than absolute high. It won't take long, trust me. Remove the pan from the heat. Toss in the rice and stir to mix it all up and coat.

I swear to you, this tastes just like I remember stir fry tasting, except a little sweeter and a lot less salty. If you want the salt, go for the soy sauce, but I like the sweeter flavor of the balsamic, myself (as well as the lack of anaphylactic reaction, but again--that's just me). The celery mimics the more expensive water chestnuts, and I don't know about you, but I've always got half a pepper or two silently wilting away in my crisper drawer.

This would probably totally rock out with broccoli. Broccoli and beef (marinated in the balsamic--this makes it taste even more like soy sauce, as the beef is naturally saltier than the chicken), bigger chunks of celery (because you get bigger water chestnuts in beef stir fry; don't ask me why), and the rice. Mmm.

I'm hungry again.

Later this week: More yarn porn. I've got some new stuff, and started a new thing or two. God knows I'm going to be needing the distraction soon, very, very soon....

I'm 'live. Sorta.

Yes, yes it does. Or it cures, which is also quite possible. Both sensations are very similar.

I guess it was a summer cold, because I've been knocked on my arse for the past week. God, it's been miserable! Worse yet, around about Wednesday I was going stir-crazy from being cooped up indoors (when you're so wiped out you can hardly blow your nose, going walk about is not an option), so I asked for today off so I could just get outside already when I wasn't napping. I decided to do the multiple birds, one rock thing, so I set the following schedule: wake up at around usual time, eat a leisurely breakfast, go the the state museum to see the travelling exhibit about knitting arts, head up to our art museum, wander the grounds, take a nap, skip music lessons and then go to the symphony (ironically, I was miserably ill this past February and had to miss a show that I'd bought tickets for; I called, sounding all pitiful, and the nice ticket person had mercy on me and let me trade my ticket for tonight's show instead--which, as a non-season ticket holder, I should not have been allowed to do. I so totally <3 our orchestra people!) It went just about that way, too, which is a first. When I got to the state museum, I was pleased to note that I could take pictures, so long as I didn't use the flash. Fine by me. So I caught the gentleman above at the door (he greeted all visitors to the gallery), and then found this intriguing piece around a corner:
It's an unravelled rug. That seemed to be a theme, actually--unravelled lace, unravelled cloth, etc. Deconstruction. I'm sure it means something, but I just found it pretty.

This is a dress knit out of shredded one dollar bills (something like $800 worth), and the notes from the artist indicate he found it amusing that he could take that money, destroy it, use the remains for a completely different object and the value of the item now becomes something like 200% greater than before. Le sigh. Too bad I can't find something like that to do!

I rather liked this dress. It's like a cross between Spiderwoman and a hateful bondage gown. It looked as if it might either itch, or maybe cause rash, but perhaps that's part of the discipline process.

Outside the museum building, set into the walls, are...tiles, celebrating each county in our state. Some of them are quite clever: they're set high up on the wall, and when viewed from a distance, they make no sense. Get up close to the wall, however, and stare straight up, and suddenly, they make sense! For instance:
Say what? Looks like something unfortunate happened to a caterpillar. But from below:

Can you tell? Would it help if I noted that it celebrates our state beaches? It's a sand dune with scrubby twigs and grass growing out of it. Ha! How clever! And this wasn't the only one you had to be in a special place to appreciate. It was fun, trying to find the proper angle on each one.

This is a close up of a glass panel that was about a waterfall riddled county. I really just liked the way the glass rippled and swayed.

This was another inset I liked. I liked the ones that weren't just concrete formed and pressed, I liked the ones with color and glass and moving parts. This county has natural gas deposits. I like how they actually depicted that with blue gas. Granted, I had no clue at first what it was about. I go by the labels.

After circling the building at least one and a half times (to find them all; some were actually a bit farther away in the landscaping as opposed to on the building proper), I moved on to the art museum. I took a breather by having tea with my sister as she ate lunch, and then she offered to get me into the fashion exhibit (she's a member and can get up to six people into the pay exhibits for free.) Unfortunately, there are NO pictures in the art museum--mostly because some of the pieces belong to the museum, some are only on loan, no photos are allowed of the ones that don't belong, and there's no notes as to which are what are where. Ah, well. I'm going to have to buy the book, because some of the shapes I saw were...fascinating, and there was a shawl there--a pretty bog-standard spider pattern, but with beads at the center of each spider and a beautiful fringe. I'm inspired to both knit a shawl and maybe a corset (they figured pretty large into it, too.)

Anyway, after getting my feet back under me vis-a-vis how the galleries were set up (we just had a massive remodel), I trudged back into the gardens. There were many, many pretty pictures, but this is my favorite: *
He's a sundial. Cheerful little saying around the bottom about sunny days and being merry while ye may, which vaguely depressed me. But it's still nice sculpture.

Can you see what he's got on the string? What functions as the dial part of the sundial?
Where's little Miss Muffett when you need her?

*I know it's not really necessary, because we're all grown ups and stuff, but here's the disclaimer: I only got to take pictures of the grounds because I'm just using them for illustration, not profit. Don't steal them and use them for profit--they might start charging us to get into the museum (we have one of the largest free art museums in the world) and that would make all the poor college students in my town really pissy. And some of them are physics students, and you really, really don't want to piss a physics student off. Really.

Summer cold

Either that, or just rampant allergies. I have a bit of a sore throat today, and last night was wretched-- I woke up around 4 am and couldn't really get back to sleep again. I kept dozing off, but I'd wake up. It's that sort of sore throat that's more an itchy dryness than outright pain, and it's irritating. I'm trying to rehydrate today (I've been dehydrated a bit lately; I'm very bad about drinking any water and the new news articles that say you get most of your hydration needs met by eating and drinking coffee, tea and soda, despite the caffeine, have only made me less likely to actually drink H2O) and it's nasty. And it's not helping. Oh, well. Whatcha gonna do? Personally, I've got a bottle of Drambuie, a lemon and box of tea with my name on it for beddie-bye night-night time, and I'm quite looking forward to it. I might even toss a slug of fat-full milk in (my one vice...well, one among many, but it is certainly a vice in dairy terms), just for added flavor.

Can I just say that whole milk dairy is certainly a vice I can afford, unlike drinking, because hot damn, folks. Drambuie is about as expensive as I'll take my liquor, which tells you how cheap I am right there, and buying my bottle was about as painful a purchase as I'm likely to make this week? How do people afford alcoholism? Yeesh. Makes my yarn habit seem economical. At least I generally end up with something useful out of the yarn I bought (even if it is only fiber insulation), unlike cigarettes, which give you tumors that are generally more expensive to get rid of, or alcohol, which eventually kills your liver and can be expensive if you get caught DUI'ing. My vices are indeed vices, to be sure, but at least they're not entirely useless vices. Yarn, whole fat milk and dark chocolate are pretty candy-ass when it comes to vices, and I no longer feel as guilty for having them, although, I confess, I feel a bit amatuer.

I've got the kids tonight, and we're going to see Forbidden Kingdom, with Jackie Chan and Jet Li, because hot diggity dog, doesn't the phrase "Jackie Chan and Jet Li" just give you chills? It does me. If they want, I might take them to see Iron Man, which I saw on Thursday night (and still haven't recovered from the sleep deprivation). It was very good, and I say that not only because Robert Downey Jr. got his money's worth and pocket change back from his personal trainer (ooh, lawsy. That man's ass is tight) but because it was genuinely a good movie. I liked Tony Stark despite his asshatted behavior, and there's a scene where he asks his friend for help and is dismissed out of hand, and RD jr manages to show the...abandonment and disappointment in that moment, in that second, and I swear it looked like he was about to cry for a second before getting it under control. He's got some seriously expressive eyes, you know? And let's just say that particular feeling resonates strongly with me, so when it flashed across his face, I knew what he was telegraphing, and suddenly I realized how good he is as an actor. Yeah, it's a scripted moment, but he acted it in real time, and that's pretty damn impressive. Robert Downey Jr, you've lived performance art-as-real life that no one should have to go through, but I'm glad you came out the other side and I think you came out the better actor for it. Keep on doing that voodoo that you do so well, please! <\former theater student worshipping someone who does it right, but only because she knows how hard it really is>

Anyway, yeah. Last week, I took Dog for walkies. The trees are blooming like it's their job right now (oh, wait...) and the colors and light were so beautiful.... I'm going to have to get a better camera to capture the glory around me. I'm such a pretty scenery hor!

The neighbors who own these trees have a little terrier type critter that always tries to take Dog on. This amuses Dog, who gazes down on the little canine with paternal affection as he bounces around Dog's ankles with rabid hatred for All Things Bigger And Canine On MY Territory, snapping and snarling, and then he looks up to me with a bemused smile and wag as if to say, Look, Mom, isn't it cute? Let's take him home, he seems so sweet.

Dog has a finely tuned sense of irony.

I've decided I really need to get serious about getting healty. I don't have the energy to cope with anything anymore, and success in life is all about energy management. A theory I'll expound on another day, when I've got more energy. ;-) Anyway, I find myself a bit depleted this morning, so I got one of these:
Odwalla Blueberry B Monster. I love this stuff. I could mainline it, but I doubt I'd get the same level of enjoyment from it if I did, as taste is part of the joy. And I don't like needles, but whatever. It's got all sorts of fruits mushed up in it, including the titular blueberries (heh, I said titular--what, I'm tired, remember?) and some mangoes and bananas, and they add in all sorts of tasty B vitamins as well to deal with stress. I should drink this stuff by the gallon. I must be low a few vitamins, because after just one of these jobbies, I do feel a little clearer. Then again, it could also be the 32 ounces of water I just chugged. Blech. I feel dirty on the inside right now.

Oh, my ears and whiskers, look at the time! I need to get a nap in, then head off to church to do my singifying (if I can croak it out--oh, stop it, I know you can sing through post nasal drip; it's just a. not as fun, b. you can't cheat on the breath support and c. I'm tired. And have an itchy throat and some muscle soreness to boot. If I make unpleasant sounds tonight, at least I have a reason instead of just an excuse.) then trot off to grab the chitlins for dinner, a movie and home to bed/television until three am. I swear, I don't know where they get the energy....

Why do I always blog when I'm hungry?

I was practically faint with hunger a little bit ago-which is actually quite reasonable, I suppose. I went straight from work to shopping with Mater Gloriosa for my brother's birthday tomorrow. Uncharitable of me, I suppose, but by the time I got home I'm so hungry I was almost wishing Mom would decide he got no gifts this year for being a complete git. Now that I've been fed (and done my own shopping, online) I can be more kind. He deserves birthday gifts. I suppose. At least we're going to Outback to celebrate, and I'm reasonably certain I'll be able to dine there with something akin to ease. *examines nails in fastidious evil* I guess I'll let him live another year.

Today was pretty, if cold. I took Dog out to use the facilities, and found some prettiness in my own back yard.

Our giant cottonwood. I love this tree. Perhaps more than is sensible and reasonable, or even normal. It was the first part of the property I saw when we moved up, and even now, it's visible from just about anywhere in the neighborhood. I loves it, I do. I want it to grow forever, even though it makes my eyes itch.

This is a shot I caught while dog was (to give you a reference) sort of...below the white tree off to the left, attending to business. It lined up nicely, the colors are pretty, and even though it's probably hella-shakey handy-cam, I stand by it. I like how the box hedge sort of...lines up to between the trees.

I can't wait until we have a really nice day. I'm going to the local art museum to photograph the gardens. I need to start a list: cultural things I want to do. So far, I've got:

--attend the knitting exhibit at the state museum
--photograph the gardens at the art museum in good spring weather
--take some photographs of my home town (it's pretty, in spring, and there's some nice stuff hereabouts, and sometimes I feel we don't get the lurve)

All of which (except for the first) requires nice weather. Botheration. We'll probably have a nice day in here somewhere, it's just timing it right....

Happy Thoughts on Burnout, Soup and More

Soooooup of the eeeeeeevening, beaooooooootiful, beauoooooootiful soooooooup!

Sorry. I'm a bit hungry right now, and my soup's about...twenty minutes away from being anywhere near done. In twenty minutes, I get to mush up the potatoes in the soup, add ham, cheese and some milk. Then heat it through again. Mmmmmm. Want soup.

Any-way. I had to go get some yogurt. There's no way I was going to be able to go another half hour without something in my stomach.

So. Burnout. Long story short: I am completely burnt out on my current job. I can't even conceive of trying to find another job anywhere else because, frankly, I can't imagine any other job not being as unpleasant as this one. I'm told there's such a thing as "job satisfaction", but so far, that's just a theory to me.

Actually, I'm finding the burn out handy, as I'm about two months (maximum) from being fired. Burnt out, you see. I just can't seem to generate anything even vaguely akin to concern for how my work is done. It all seems so pointless anymore. I mean, I make a small bit of progress, then find out that I'm not doing anything like what I thought I was, and it all goes straight to hell.

I was feeling rather bummed out about the burn out thing until I had a happy thought tonight. Well, it's been oncoming for a week or so now. Twice in the past week, I've had people quote Julian of Norwich to me: "All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well." Now, at least one of these people uses the quote as a greeting and general how d'ye do, but the other (as far as I knew) hadn't heard the quote before. Then tonight, while singing at church, I flip my pages quite haphazardly and turn to the page that holds the hymn version of that particular section of Julian of Norwich's book. Quite amusingly, at the same time, my organist is telling me that perhaps this period of burn out is a sign that it is a time of turning in my life. And I realized....

My online name (in most places, not just here) is Silver Phoenix. I am Silver Phoenix. And phoenixes, by their very nature, need to burn in order to be reborn. Perhaps it is merely my burning time. And soon, after the flames die down, I'll be remade, a little naked chick, sitting in the ashes. I quite hope so. A new beginning would be very nice.

Further realization: Since I've been putting money into my savings account the past two months, if I can manage to keep saving at the same rate, and get the full $600 from the government in the stimulus "forget what crap the economy is at the moment" package pay offs, I only really have to work two more months and I'll be able to take at least three months off. Actually, I can quit my job at the end of June, spend July recovering and sitting on my rear (actually probably playing at writing and knitting and other general artistry in an attempt to recover from my burn out) before getting my second wind and starting to look for a new job. And have all of August and September to find one, plus maybe a bit of October.

Besides:

Um. Oops. I didn't really realize how much yarn there was in my life until I got this pretty new yarn keeper. It's almost full to the tippy top. Worse yet:

Um. Yeah. This set of yarn? Not even in my yarn keeper thingie. Plus, I've got three of the balls for the Who scarves outside all the keepers. Not that it's a lot of bulk, but....

Well. If nothing else, I have more than enough yarn to keep me occupied while I'm sitting on my arse, recovering from burnout this summer.

I've finished my second bowl of soup, and I'm so tired from sleeping on my friend's couch last night (also a long story made short) that I can't type worth a damn, so I'm going to get off here and go watch "Robin Hood" and then "Graham Norton". Then bed. Maybe bed before then--I can always record Graham for tomorrow. I'm about done up, I am. Ooh. And Guy of Gisborne is looking all moody and sullen. Lucky is he that he's pretty enough that his emo-ness is only annoying and not fatally unattractive.

And remember: All will be well and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well.