Nothing Blogworthy

To quote the gals at Go Fug Yourself doing their Jennifer Lopez impression: Hola, lovers! I am back!

/end Jennifer Lopez

It's be a week in which little happened. There was a council meeting. I took a sick day. It's been cold. I broke my butt-muscles trying to plant flowers outside the town office. The door to my porch has been fixed.

These are all great things, but none of them really reached out and told me I needed to write about them. The internet doesn't need to hear my drug-induced rambling about what pretty eyes Gary Sinise has...bad enough I rambled to an empty room. (Which is not to say that Gary Sinise's eyes aren't beautiful portals into a deep well of sorrow - seriously, he has beautiful eyes.)

*Pause to reflect on Gary Sinise...mmmm...Mac Taylor...mmm...

Where was I going with this?

Oh, yeah. I want to be profound, y'know? I want to write things that are interesting, unlike my last journal which gradually became all about how much I hated my life at the Kindergarten. And when I'm dealing with the day to day minutiae of living alone, not being inspired to cook, and having a house that sets off Hoarder-alerts in my brain ... well, I don't really feel like turning on the computer to write about it.

But Saturday, events conspired that combine all of the above, and made me laugh in horror.

So, Saturday was Town Planting day, when people are supposed to volunteer to plant flowers around town - in front of the post office, and the town office, and the "Welcome to Faro" sign. Normally, I was told that there are around 30 volunteers. This year, there were 12.

Now, I am crap with plants. Basically, they die if I look at them. I am not the best person to help out if you want your plants to live. But as the Admin Assistant, I was under the impression that if I didn't volunteer, there would be some serious hell to pay. So I came out and got my diggin' on. (I discovered that I like to plant marigolds, because they are easy and smell like Grandma's garden at the old house.)

I worked for 3.5 hours, and then went home. My butt was killing me, my thighs were killing me, and my nails were dirty*. I needed to shower. After my shower, I was clean, but everything still hurt, so I dressed in my fuzziest pants and a comfy shirt, and lounged on the couch watching CSI: NY.

I should have been cleaning the house - my parents are coming in less than two weeks. I got a huge shipment of summer clothes that I had thrown willy-nilly around the dining room in my excitement. My lunch dishes were in the sink. But all I wanted to do was quilt and moon over Danny and Lindsay's burgeoning romance in Season 2 (so that I could get to Season 3 where I could enjoy the tortured romance parts and watch as all the shots of Lindsay get higher and higher up until by halfway through the season all you can see are her eyes ^_^ **)

Well, mid-sigh, the doorbell rings. Who could it be? I thought maybe Kara had stopped by, but it wasn't her...


To Be Continued



* Tru-fax - I really hate having dirt under my fingernails. I used to carry safety pins around on all my bags in case of dirt - emergency nail cleaner.

** This was because the actress was pregnant, but her character was not.