Thursday, Aug. 21, 2003 - 8:59 a.m.
Greetings,
Eh. The “idyllic” interlude we all enjoyed here yesterday is definitely over. Fuckalie is back, loud mouthed and opinionated as ever.
Yesterday she had “personal things” to attend to, so she didn’t bother to come in or tell her boss. She told one of the other secretaries though. What an ass.
Her neighborhood lost power last night and at 10:30 the power company reps came to her door to ask if they could get in her backyard to climb up a pole and fix everything. She didn’t bother to answer the door because she has “fahv dawgs out they-ah and what am Ah gonna do with them? Let the power company go to mah neighbahs’ yahd.”
Yes, well, you see, Fuckalie, dogs are supposed to be indoor creatures that sometimes go outside to do their business, but mostly reside inside with you. Just because you have a pack of ill mannered, unhouse trained, lonely, pathetic curs does not mean you should deprive your entire neighborhood of power.
I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!
Mary Beth is in fine throat clearing fettle this morning. I’ve taken to stomping my foot whenever she clears her throat. My foot hurts now so I have to stop that.
Maid Marion and I are trading e-mails now about how loud, rude and opinionated certain people in this office are. We are currently discussing our “favorite” (read: We’d rather eat our own vomit than have to hear her say it one more TAHM) sayings.
Maid Marion’s: “Ah’m fixin’ to bust a move.” (This is said every single night before she packs up all the scrounged food she can find in the company fridge to bring home to her dawgs exiled in the backyard.)
Mine: “Anutha day, anutha dollah” (This is said every single morning before she fixes to settle down to “work”.)
EEEK.
In other news…
Stopped over Jaye's last night to pick up a book of CDs Tommy left in his car last week. Tommy was also the recipient of several D&D books. Needless to say, he was extremely pleased.
We went out for Chinese food in Belle Chasse and then drove home watching some of the most beautiful, incredible heat lightning I’ve ever seen.
The clouds were massed across the sky from Belle Chasse all the way to the Crescent City Connection. The lightning would light up the clouds from the inside out. It was like looking into the world’s largest crystal ball.
Then as we crossed the bridge, the clouds cleared and the lightning, thick and extremely long, would fork down and seem to strike all the tallest buildings in the CBD.
It was awe-inspiring.
Less awe-inspiring, but something I find delightful is my new bottle of Renuzit Room Mist. That stuff kicks major ass. I spray the sofa and the rocking chair cushion (and a few squirts into the laundry room) each morning and Crescentwood is transformed into a garden instead of a litter box.
I repeat my actions when I arrive home each night. As a result, Crescentwood has never been fresher!
(Don’t you just love my masterful segues??)
It’s my Friday today. This means a three-day weekend stretches out gloriously in front of me. It’s still several excruciating hours away, however, but, like Gloria Gaynor did in the 70s, I will survive.
If only so that tomorrow night I can luxuriate in an Oceanus scented bubble bath as I listen to the sound of the sea. Candles will glimmer and shimmer around me and a caftan will wait on the hook on the door. Ah.
This weekend, contrary to the past two weeks, will be spent primarily (and perhaps exclusively) at home. No visiting friends, no French Quarter shopping sprees, no drunken stumble up Bourbon Street.
No, if I stumble drunkenly at all, it will be between my kitchen and the living room as I get myself yet another glass of champagne.
Saturday marks the 7th anniversary of the first time I saw Tommy face to face. After nearly a year of e-mails and IM’s and faxes, I journeyed out to California and met him on a bridge in Irvine. And we’ve been together ever since.
So at least one glass of the trillion or so I plan to imbibe this weekend will be in honor of our meeting. A toast to Irvine, to Connecticut, to self-transformation, to love.
And this year we get to do it in our own home.
It’s enough to make me want to pop the cork right now at 8:54 a.m. on a Thursday!
Happy Anniversary, Count!
Until next time,
Olrun
