Today Infinite Feel Long

Today's fortune is a no-brainer. This feels like a very long day. There are other intrepetations, of course, like how I could spend an infinite amount of time feeling something long, but given the day so far I think it's just a prediction of boredom.

Took a nap about 11:00, and dreamed R. called, asking me to spend New Year's Eve with him. It felt so real so real that I had to check my call log. Sadly, typically, the last incomming call was from my mother.

Infinite Visit Web Destroy

No idea what this refrigerator fortune means. None at all. The only "infinite visit" I had was with my bed, sleeping the day away. "Web destroy" is still a mystery, and a strangly upsetting one. Why would I want to destroy my favorite thing?

Selling My Soul?

Went a little insane at Hobby Lobby today. Frames, needed for the jewelry-storage project, were 50% off. I bought four smaller frames and one larger frame, in different colors and materials. I wasn't sure of the mix I needed so I bought extras, and once I've decided what I want I can gift the rest.

Also bought lime paint for my Krishna Komputer. And decal kit that allows you to make your own decals at home using your computer. Mirrors were 50% off, and I bought a nice mirror to hang with the jewelry projects. Decorative iron was also 50% off, and Hobby Lobby had a piece that will work as well as the coveted Pottery Barn piece, at half the price.

Plus fabric for the frames, plus cork board, and rhinestones for the thumb tacks, and . . . I know I'm forgetting things . . . ah, a reproduction pink Depression glass cake plate.

Gods. Realized too late that I've sold out. I'm buying a room full of decorative items at Hobby Lobby. I almost sicked up in the parking lot.

You have to understand -- Hobby Lobby's decorative department is expressly designed for Women Who Dust. You know -- ladies who own china cabinets with dolls in them, who collectible china birds or cats, or (worst of all) Precious Moments figures. They have perfect hair, Starbuck's cards, and an SUV. They decorate their houses with bowls of wooden balls, unlit fragrant candles, silk flowers, and overly-aromatic potpourri. Who have a dozen small be-ribboned pillows on their beds. Some of them even cook.

OK, I know they're not that bad, and not that cookie cutter, either. Still, I've always felt that Hobby Lobby was not to my taste. I can see buying a thing or two in there, occasionally, but I never in my life planned to be one of those tasteless women with a cart-load of Hobby Lobby decor.

(Take a deep breath. Hold it. OK, let it out. Repeat.)

It's this bedroom. The whole shabby-chic-meets-mid-century thing I'm doing is working, but it needs more shabby, especially over the dresser and around the tub, which are the areas I threw cash at today.

My bedroom is honestly my favorite room in the house. (This week.) Even if I did buy almost the entire room at Hobby Lobby.

After-Christmas Sales

I've been checking out the After-Christmas Sales for the past hour. Very disappointed with this year's online offerings. I didn't find much at all to tempt me. PB Teen came closest with their white iron decorative storage and their jewelry storage/display frames. Sadly the iron is still too expensive for my budget, but I think I can make my own frames. That'll probably be tomorrow's project, after I take my Mom to the thrift stores.

I'm also thinking of a new project -- portable religious alters made from broken electronics. I want to find an old laptop, take everything out of it, paint it, and put a Krishna figure inside. Then I want to do something similar with a cell phone. And an iPod. And a portable DVD player. And maybe even a CD player with a Shiva that pops out when the eject button is pushed.

This is going to be fun. I've wanted to mod computers for a long, long time, and this might be a move in that direction. eBay has a ton of laptops for as little as 99 cents plus shipping. I'm going to enjoy this.

Winter of my Discontent

Tomorrow is my family's Christmas, and while I'm looking forward to being with everyone I'm also dreading the aftermath. The grey part of vacation. Two of the most mind-bendingly wretchedly dull weeks of the year.

It's starting to unnerve me. Why am I so afraid of being bored? And why, if being bored is so bad, can't I find anything fun to do? That's pretty telling, isn't it? I have a two-week paid vacation, and I can't think of anything I want to accomplish or enjoy during this break.

And nothing much I want to accomplish next semester, either.

OK, must do some hard thinking, and see if I can't come up with decent alternatives. I can't keep living like this. Barely living like this.

Party Blues

C. just called and cancelled, so I did the right thing and left R. a voice message saying the party is off. Very tempting to have this be a "lucky accident" but I know R. would feel like I was trying to corner him.

I'm going to finish cleaning the house anyway, and have sangria and chicken quesidillas for dinner. Later I can assemble my foil Christmas tree, and watch the last DVD from Lost Season 2.

By myself. Again.

Do this solitude thing long enough and I'll get good at it.

Listening to the "Fire Walk With Me" soundtrack. It's one of my new favorites. Torch-y blues, thick with cigarette smoke and gin. Great for might-have-beens, which is what my life seems to be made of.

My party is tomorrow. It's shrunk to an entire two people, C and R. I've simplified my menu a little, and I'm worrying less about cleaning house since it'll be all guys. C is great, so I think we'll get a lot accomplished and have fun in the process.

R is a little more problematic. I don't know how to talk to him any longer. Somewhere along the way he got inside my guard, and I told him things I wouldn't normally tell people. Now I don't know how to quit telling him stuff. And, of course, the brutal truth is that I don't want to. All this one-sided intimacy is addicting.

Kept a little bit of my self-respect this weekend, and did not go into Pier One with him. I wanted to, but I'm tired of feeling lit up inside when I'm with him, then feeling just awful for the next couple of days when I have to face reality again. It made more sense to rush right home and get started on awful. Get it over with, get it out of my system.

Why do I keep embracing sense when sense isn't helping?

Staring at the Walls

I'm about to start painting a mural on my bedroom wall. I don't really feel like painting, but I don't feel like doing much of anything, so I might as well paint. I hope this looks good -- I don't want to paint this wall yet again. The design is simple enough -- large fleur-flower things, in pop pink shades.

I'm going a little batty this week, bouncing around the house without anyone to talk to. And Christmas break starts Friday, so I'm about to have too much time on my hands. I hate vacations.

Laughing Out Loud

My refrigerator fortune, after a night without sleep, reads "Come, try dazzling coffee!"

A Million Dollars, Or . . . .

Playing an old game tonight. Would I rather have a million dollars or true love?

Love wins. Some of the time, anyway.

Tonight a friend asked if I'd rather have a twenty-minute shopping spree in Target, or twenty minutes in the arms of a perfect lover.

Target won.

I'd rather have a nice quilt for several years than a man for just twenty brief minutes that would haunt me for a lifetime.

(sigh) Must continue cleaning. My adjunct dinner is in ten days. So far exactly two of my adjuncts have accepted. Another will be out of town, and I haven't heard a thing from the last one.

At least my home will look good after this. Providing I get off my tail end and finish sweeping.

Christmas List

Every break I make a huge, unrealistic Christmas to-do list, stuffed with things I need to finish before the new semester begins. Here is my list for this year:

• Complete a Paint-By-Number Painting

Merry Christmas!!

Less is More

Yesterday before dinner I walked into Linens 'n Things, and resolved to only buy a black tablecloth. So naturally I walked out with a table cloth, a curtain rod, a battery-powered light fixture, and an overwhelming desire for a fifty-dollar pair of curtains.

After dinner I walked into Target only to look at curtains, so of course I walked out with curtains, a cork charger, and two sets of Christmas ornaments to use as a centerpiece on my new table.

Two hours later I needed a spring tension curtain rod (the rod I bought earlier was for another room) so I ran to Big Lots, and coincidentally walked out with a curtain rod, and iHome to Go ($20 Christmas gift) and a small bag of crackers.

An hour after that, when I found the curtains were two inches too long, I drove to Wal-Mart, and astoundingly left the store WITHOUT the pins, chalk, embroidery hoop, and thread I had planned to buy. Instead I bought new scissors and Stitch Witchery.

Why can't I just walk into a store and buy only what I need?????

The centerpiece and the curtains look great, though. They're exactly what the breakfast room needed. Maybe all the buying is worthwhile if I keep getting results like these.

Whirlwind

The last two days have been very active. I don't know why -- maybe someone added extra caffeine to my Dr. Pepper?

In the past two days I've gone to work, studied Algebra, failed an Algebra class, and also managed to

• Mount a coat rack I purchased about three years ago
• Mount my Nielson ball clock knock-off in the kitchen
• Clean the living room
• Assemble (OK, almost assemble) my Ikea table set
• Touch up some paint in the kitchen
• Clean the breakfast room
• Purchase three frying pans (super-cute colorful graphics)
• Purchase eight placemats ($1 each)
• Wash a few loads of clothing

It's amazing what the prospect of a small dinner party does for my home.

Screwed by IKEA

IKEA sucks, IKEA sucks, IKEA sucks.

My new Fusion table and chair set is missing a screw. I though, no big deal, I'll just call and they'll send me a new one. After all, it's just a screw, not an entire piece of furniture.

Problem is that IKEA won't do anything unless I have the original customer receipt. I paid by credit card, but they can't do a credit-card lookup. They told me over the phone that if I drove all the effing way to Frisco I could maybe get a replacement ordered, but they wouldn't bet on it.
So I hung up and dug through my purse, and actually found the receipt, and called back. They took my information, and said they would have a case worker call me back.

What the fuck!!!??? I have to have a callback on a screw??

I don't give out my phone number, and when I told the representative she said she couldn't help me without a phone number. I reluctantly asked what their privacy policy is, but the representative couldn't even answer the question.

If this circus continues I'll call the credit card company and stop payment. I think *that* gesture can serve as a sales receipt, don't you agree?

I like IKEA's products and prices, but I'm never buying another thing from IKEA. Too much fucking hassle for a freaking five-cent screw.

Dirty Secret

Today I failed an Algebra test. I know I failed it. And the thing is, about halfway through the test I started being resentful. After all, I'm not taking the class for credit. Why am I waking up early three mornings a week and stumbling into an Algebra classroom? Why am I taking tests I feel destined to fail? Why am I struggling with something I'll never use?

And here's the awful part. I don't think I should have to be good at math because it's a guy thing. Isn't that a horrible thought? I hated myself when I though that.

When I re-examined my newly-found opinion, though, I decided I want other women to do math. We need more Marie Curies, and more Rosalind Franklins, and more Maria Mitchells.

But I don't want to do math. Some sick part of me wants to decorate the family cave, barefoot.

Yuck.

I want my fantasy man, Phil de Blank, do all the math. He can be geeky and sexy, with different calculators and maybe a slide rule, and I can be all admiring and big-eyed.

Yuck. Again.

I guess, secretly, I want him to take care of me and earn money, and come home after working all day to listen to me talk about how difficult the freaking butcher was today. I can fix him a martini, and he can tell me I'm pretty.

yuck, yuck, yuck, YUCK.

Now I'm determined to make an A on the final, if only to prove to myself that I'm not trying to live out some sick 50s Cinderella fantasy.