I really ought to figure out whether or not I'm keeping this blog alive. ((sigh)) I haven't blogged for more than a week, having mostly moved to Google+.

I still want pancakes. I also don't want to make pancakes. I have extracted a promise from the roommate that if we are both up while the restaurant around the corner is still serving breakfast, we will go out for breakfast. But I suspect that that is unlikely to happen, since we are also both hiding until the third roommate goes out for the day with her dad, and she is still around. (Also, it is entirely possible that he is actually still asleep.) _

It has been ages since I read a book in a day, but I spent most of yesterday lazing on the couch, rather blissed out about the lack of continual running sitcom loop and read Liar. I have just finished. (Reading The Pushcart War in an hour doesn't count at all.)

I really liked this book, but I can honestly say I have NO idea what I think actually happened. I have never met such an unreliable narrator, and for a while there, everything I was reading seemed to have one. (Well, at least everything we read for the Pretentious Novels book club had one. There were at least three in a row.

  _

 I had this dream last night that on Thanksgiving moring, I got up early and I made blackberry pancakes. Like blueberry pancakes, but with blackberries in them, berries all cooked in and delicious. In the dream, I was on edge as it was, since I was spending another odd Thanksgiving with my (soon-to-be-ex)stepdad but not my mom.

And he got all snotty and bratty about his first pancake, which for some reason didn't have any berries in it, and was being an ass about "why would anyone make such normal pancakes? Why don't they have some grit, or why didn't you make crepes?"

And I yelled at him, and told him he should just go away, and do Thanksgiving with someone else.

It was not a particularly pleasant dream, and it has been niggling at me all morning.

 

Also. I want pancakes. _

Last night, rather randomly at dinner, Brianne started on one of her rants about Mark Antony.

And I just lost it. I mean, I knew Brianne had a thing about Mark Antony. I read her Senior Essay, which could have been titled "Why Brutus Was Awesome and Mark Antony Was Stupid." We were roommates for three years, and Rome was on TV (not that we got HBO, but I watched it anyway).

And, it's not as though I have never had random nerdy converations about the history of Rome with a roommate since moving. We just...have less emotionally invested in any of the people, although I sometimes become very Republican. _

 In other news, my upstairs neighbors have, apparently, been screaming all night and I was just awoken by a rather loud thud.

And I think my leg has decided it hates me again. I should probably go to the doctor in the morning. BLAH. I thought I was DONE WITH THIS. _

Sometimes, it's funny how different people's memories are. I am abolutely 100% sure that the night that Brianne dyed my hair bright pink and we watched all the terrible sitcoms and it was the day before I was heading back to Boston the day before Connor's brain surgery, we watched the first few episodes of Community. (We also watched Kath and Kim and the American Coupling, both of which are dreadful.)

Brianne has, it turns out, absolutely no memory of ever watching Community whatsoever, and is sure I am conflating memories.

We have conceded that, perhaps, what might have happened is that when my hair came out hot pink and she went off to the all night drug store to get a proper auburn rather than the flame red we were experimenting with, I might have given Community a shot on my own. And decided that, nope, it was not for me. Only to give it another shot this winter, and to watch the whole thing in like two weeks. _

 I had this dream I was looking down at my bare knee and I thought "What is that piece of string?" And so I pulled the piece of string and this long (not particularly gross) piece of packing ribbon  (the medical kind, which I still have in my bathroom leftover from the great and horrible Winter of MRSA) came out. Like, it was a foot long.

In my dream I was like "What the fuck? Why do I have a giant piece of gauze in my leg? Why do I have a hole in my leg that can take a giant piece of gauze?!" And I went to the doctor to find out what was going on.

I woke up, or the dream shifted to something else, before I could figure it out.

Anyway. That is all. Totally odd. I have no idea what it means.

(Probably that we were talking about weird dreams last night just before bed.) _

I usually eat lunch on my own, reading a book. Sometimes, I feel all ostracized, but mostly it's just like "YAY BOOK."

The new admin assistant was like "Let's do lunch sometime!" and I said, "Okay, how about Wednesday?"

Today is Wednesday.

She is sweet. I'm sure we'll have fun. But, really, I just want to read my book. _

Why we love our favorite pizza/burger/sandwich/french fry/ice cream delivery place #300:

After they deliver my veggie burger with cheese and avocado with bacon added accidentally, we called them to ask them to please bring me a veggie burger without bacon. They apologized, and agreed to bring us a new one. And we started watching Being Elmo, and the owner (whose name is Grover, I feel this is important) called my roommate who had placed the order to apologize, make sure we were okay and not upset, and to explain that there's a regular burger with cheese, avocado, and bacon, and they thought we were just trying to get that only on their delicious veggie burger instead of beef.

This is why we love Eat at Jumbo's. Because they take care of us. _

Checking out at Wegman's this afternoon, the checkout boy asked us if we wanted the ham in a separate bag.

"Yes," I replied quickly, not wanting gross ham juices to possibly remotely touch any of my vegeterian friendly foods.

We watched him bag it up, and I turned to my roommate and said, "It's our Passover ham!"

We both cracked up. We were laughing and laughing and finally the checkout guy said, "I don't know much about Passover, why is that so funny?"

I blinked, stared, and said, "Because no pork product is ever Kosher?"

(Yes, apparently, there will be ham at potluck brunch for the godless. This was not my idea, nor G's.) _

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 I am currently reading three books, which are all very different from each other, and I am liking them all. I'm not used to liking all the books I'm reading at any given time, I'm a bit disoriented. (I am, however, absolutely used to reading three books. There is one in my room, one in my purse, and one in my living room. This is normal, right?) Maybe I ought to pick up a Pulitzer, just so I will have something to hate on.

Or, I could just continue reading my French/Roman fantasy novel, the bizarre murder mystery, and the Iliad retelling and be ridiculously blissfully happy about it all. _

It has been two months since I last had a MRSA outbreak. I suspect that the combination of the change in my antibiotic and the MRSA decolonization 10 day scrub of nastiness (it was nasty for four reasons: 1-the "soap" was mostly alcohal and my skin became incredibly dry and itchy, no matter how much shea butter I slathered on it, 2-in addition to the soap, I had to put ointment up my nose, which was about as gross as it sounds, 3-I had to use a new towel every day, and I have four towels, this meant a lot of laundry, 4-I got norovirus in the middle and couldn't stand up for more than five minutes without being sure I was going to throw up, which made daily showers absolutely miserable, and I had to beg for help with washing my towels in the middle of it, because I really couldn't stand up long enough to go to my washer and dryer) has worked. Hurray! _

This afternoon, I was peering at a book in a coworkers hands and saw the title "Metamorphas" and then his hand was covering where it would say "is" or "es."

"Ovid or Kafka?" I asked.

He looked at me like I was from Mars. "Kafka."

I wrinkled my nose slightly and said, "The Ovid's great." _

I do laundry every weekend. It is part of the new MRSA paranoia, I used to do laundry every other week, but now I am changing my sheets and towels more frequently, and wearing pants less times between washes, so I wind up doing two loads of laundry every week. I have gotten fairly good at folding it pretty quickly, usually while hanging out watching TV. And then I take the laundry baskets into my bedroom, and put them down.

Yesterday morning, I woke up, realized that I needed to do laundry and that all of my laundry baskets were full of clean laundry. I was also not at all sure if I had any clean towels, in the baskets, or if they were all dirty. So, I cracked and put away about a month's worth of laundry. My room looks so much cleaner, it's ridiculous.

  _

 And then, shortly before leaving, when I went to get coffee, I learned that something had gone wrong with the coffee maker over night. I think it came unplugged. But there was no coffee! There was no magic coffee! I had to buy coffee on my way into the office, because there was no way I was facing today without coffee. _

Fucking dog wouldn't fucking stay asleep all fucking night and would pant in my face until I would wake up and take him out, or take him off to get water. And then at 5:30, a car alarm went off, right outside my open bedroom window.

I am so tired. _

I spent yesterday afternoon hanging out with one of my oldest friends, who has just moved to Boston, helping her hang pictures and set up her wireless.

It was such a lovely spring day, it was fantastic. We had a picnic and everything.

Also, I was quite pleased with myself for knowing driving directions between Somerville and Charlestown, and from Target back to my house.

And I made brownies when I got home and mixed in white chocolate M&Ms. Brownies with white chocolate M&Ms are delicious. (Actually, white chocolate M&Ms are delicious.) _

Sometimes, even when work was nuts because your boss runs hot and cold and then forgets that she was angry and then forgets how to insert a pivot table and then, after months of you saying "look, this list doesn't match the names in our database, we can't do VLookups off of it because it's full of acronyms and both the database and the list have some things with 'the' that the other doesn't" gets all frustrated because apparently it is your fault that a list was wrong and...

And then you come home and your roommate is back to rocking back and forth in silence and your tolerance level for today's comfort TV is lower than it is for watching the same episodes of Parks and Rec for the fiftieth time and the other roommate decides to go to bed early and you're left sitting there going "Is it okay for me to go away now, too, or do I need to stay out here with her until she needs to get ready for work?" Because even if you have convicned them that four episodes of Bob's Burgers in a row is about your threshhold and you've switched to The Daily Show and you've started a new knitting project and none of the three of you are actually talking to each other, but it's easier to be around the sad silent rocking when you're not alone...

Sometimes, fresh clean sheets and new soft pillowcases, and a freshly properly made bed which will probably be made two more times before you give up on it, do a world of good. And so. Fresh bedding, small dog blending in with bedspread. And comics about fairy tales. Things could be worse.

  _

 My dining room is clean! I was not quite sure I believed such a thing was possible. It was certainly not possible for me to clean it, but I got home from work and my roommate had cleaned it. (And also made delicious dinner.) _