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Sunday, August 06, 2006
Zev, Erik, and the movers did all the real work, so why am *I* sore?
Current mood: 
I am REALLY BAD at unpacking. Here was my thought process this morning, as I stood in the middle of my rather disheveled living room:
First I'll unpack books. Oh, cards and stuff go with games. Crap, I hate 52 card pick up. CRAP, now there are only 49 cards. I bet the other three fell behind those video boxes. I'm going to unpack my videos and DVDs, then, and put them there. Oh, but first I should glue that piece of wood back. Ugh, and the glass is really dusty, I should windex that first. Where the hell is the windex? I had it just . . . . Well, maybe if I get some of these boxes unpacked I'll find it. I guess I'll just keep going with the books. Oh, but the bookshelves aren't where I want them. But I can't move them because book boxes are stacked in front of them. Maybe I should set up my TV and stuff. But the shelves have the video boxes on them! Oh Lord.
Meanwhile I've half-unpacked several boxes of books, have undone work I did yesterday setting up my stacking bookshelves, have wandered aimlessly all over the apartment in search of windex, wood glue, and a clue. My dining table is covered with piles of books because I want to organize them before I shelve them, and I keep having to rein my brain in from thinking about curtains and all sorts of stuff that can WAIT until I'm UNPACKED. If I ever am. Oy.
Help? Please? Anybody?
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Monday, August 7, 2006
Why am I sore? Because I'm sick. Yay.
Current mood: 
Nope. I now have a fever again. I feel like crap. I'm working from home because I've already need to make up the billable hours I lost Friday. And my apartment is, of course, a wreck, and I can't go to the hardware store, so I can't fix my bookshelf that got a little broken, and I can't really do any of the stuff I want to do to make this place livable. I cant even go to the grocery store to buy soup and vitamin C drops and gatorade. And all the friends Ive called are busy. And my apostrophe just stopped working. This sucks. Hrmph.
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Tuesday, August 8, 2006
Do most hardware stores carry machetes? Current mood: sluggish
Cuz it seemed weird to me. But I got my C clamps, I got a level, and I patronized a family owned business that has been selling hardware for over fifty years, or something. Feels good.Plus I found out where to buy a machete, should a jungle ever spring up in my apartment. *looks around*
Hmmm. Might actually be useful . . .
Feeling better, but . . . the grocery store will have to wait until Thursday. Hope I'm okay playing trumpet tomorrow. I feel fine, just nooooo eeenerrrrgy.
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Thursday, August 10, 2006
No Beachin' Current mood:
Well, I don't think I'll be going to the beach with my mom and sis this weekend. Came home from band last night, and yep, had a fever.
Going to try to make it through the whole day at the office, though. Got my vitamin C drops!
I wish this meant I'd be able to get stuff done around the new place, but I dunno. We'll have to see how much better I get.
Sigh.
--------------------Friday, August 11, 2006
It's Progress Current mood: Ebullient, as Frank would say
I actually sound worse than I feel. Yesterday I nearly lost my voice, but I felt much better! I've got about 75% of my voice back now, and I'm coughing some, but it's not bad. Better yet, I have energy! Not tons, but much more than earlier in the week.
The best part is, I don't think I'm contagious, so while I'm still in town for the weekend instead of at the beach (
Yay for not being a hermit! Yay for Friday!
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Friday, August 11, 2006
Too much excitement Current mood: 
Not, like, *tooooo* too much. But still too much.
I decided to come home right after dinner tonight. Because 1) my friends were being a little boring, and 2) I've been sick, so turning in early sounded good.
So I get out of my car, and I go and get my mail. And I walk back and up the stairs to my door and . . .
It's open. I look at it, with my head cocked and my eyebrows drawn together. I nudge it with my foot like it's an animal I think might be dead. It swings back, and I see that the bolt isn't shot, and the door frame looks fine.
I nudge it again, and reach in and turn on the lights, and peep around.
Then I remember. I *did* lock the door this morning. I *know* I did. I had to go back to get my Hawai'ian shirt to put on after work cuz it's Friday, and Chuck and I always wear a Hawai'ian shirt to Valhalla. And I had my shirt in one hand as I locked the door with the other. I remember looking at the lock, turning the key, and having this red shirt in view. So I *know* I locked it, for sure.
So I turn around, walk back down the steps, and call the complex to see if they have a security service. They do not. I call 311 to ask what I should do, because, mind you, I'm in denial that this is an actual emergency.
311 hands me over to the police department, and they dispatch a car to my location, take my phone number, and tell me they'll be there soon.
So I try to call Kerri. Who doesn't answer. So I try Erik, who doesn't answer. So I try Terri, who doesn't answer. So I just start going down the list and figure I'll call the first person who seems to be a good person to call. I end up with Joe.
Joe reassures me I've done the right thing, and keeps me company while I wait.
In about a half hour the cops show up. Much to the chagrin, I'm sure, of the woman walking her (absolutely lovely and friendly) dogs by on the sidewalk. I wish I had had time to stop and make friends. I explain to them that I came home, my door was open and unlocked, and that I knew for certain that I had locked it this morning. And that I don't know if anything is missing, because I didn't go in, or really look.
It's not a big place. It doesn't take them long to search it (with me hovering frightened outside the door, poised to run if any sounds of a struggle break out). They check all the rooms, they check my doors and windows. And no one is there, and I come in, and my TV, stereo, computer, are all intact.
One of the officers asks concernedly, "Is the the way your apartment looked when you left this morning?" I shamefacely laugh, "Yes, I just moved in." The place is a wreck. It really is.
They laugh, and say okay, and head out the door. No forms or anything. Complete and total false alarm.
And frankly, I'm happier that way! So here's a shout out to the men in blue who made it safe for me to come back into my home. I still love this place, but I'm going to raise a little hell in the apartment office tomorrow, and get my locks changed. Once is enough!
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So that was my week. I get new locks on Monday. I hope to be completely recovered by then too, since I have a big client meeting. To that end, I do believe I'll go to bed now.
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