Saturday and Sunday, I felt like I was doing all right on the ukulele. Tonight, I practiced for an hour, and was sorely disappointed with myself. My strumming seems to be off rhythm every so often, or I’m not hitting the strings evenly. And over the weekend, I played “Dream a little dream of me” most often – tonight it sounded all wrong, like maybe the uke was out of tune. But the uke sounds like it’s in tune to me, and at the very least I’m pretty sure it’s tune to itself, if not exactly tuned to G-C-E-A. So I don’t know what’s going on. I’ll have Greg look at it, or borrow his tuner or something. I did play through “The Ukulele Song” several times, and that, at least, sounded alright, and I managed to keep the strumming even.
Today I found out it is entirely possible to shred on the ukulele:
I will probably never be that good. And that’s okay. But it’s something to aim for.
Oh – and I found out what the flowers are (that Greg gave me): alstroemeria. They appear to be fairly hardy and easy to grow, they’re perennials, and we’re in the right zone for them. Woot! I will be getting some rhizomes and planting those suckers in our garden. They’re also neat because their leaves flip over as they leave the stalk, so what appears to be the top of the leaf is actually the underside; and they (if I’m remembering this correctly) add new cells in a spiral pattern as they grow, and you can actually see a spiralling in the stalk. Aside from being lovely.
Argh. I spent a ridiculous amount of time at work yesterday, on a Sunday, making up time I missed from being sick last week. Which I wanted to do, and I got *alot* done, and I don’t have to take leave, so I don’t really mind – it’s just that this week is going to feel longer for working six days in a row. I got home at a decent enough time at night, got to bed decently early, and then couldn’t get to sleep until about 1:00, only to wake up at 2:00. And I know it’s nerves, and I should have taken a clonopin like I thought about doing *before* I went to sleep, only I didn’t, and now it’s 2:30 when I’ve taken some, and I’m not entirely sure when I’ll get to sleep, or whether I’ll be too groggy in the morning to go to work.
But, at least now, I can chill the fuck out about the random pains in my side and my legs that are really nothing more than just random pains, and hopefully in about twenty-thirty minutes, I’ll be able to get to back to sleep. And in the meantime, I’m going to read. Blah. I think I must be more anxious about moving back into the house than I realized. That’s awesome. I’ve got three weeks to deal with it, and then we’re back in the house, and I have a horrible foreboding that, compared to *then*, tonight’s sleep is going to seem like a luxurious amount.
GREG GOT ME A UKULELE FOR VALENTINE’S DAY!!!
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It’s an Ohana soprano uke, and I already know twelve chords. (Although, to be fair, it’s like four sets of three: A, A7, Am; C, C7, Cm; F, F7, Fm; and G, G7, Gm.) I LOVE IT!!
Also for Valentine’s, I made devil’s food cupcakes with cream cheese filling; we went out for dinner at Queen of Sheba, an Ethiopian restaurant we haven’t been to in a while, and the prix fixe dinner was INCREDIBLE; and then we went to see My Bloody Valentine 3-D, which was fun. Why aren’t more movies in 3-D? Really.
I’m pretty sure all this bullshit *is* due to my period. Which blows goats, because I really don’t want to be experiencing this on a regular basis. I got so disgustingly nauseous today that I had to leave work early. Greg was already leaving early, because he’s got a show in Charlotte tonight, so he drove me home and I didn’t have to be miserable waiting for and then riding on the bus, so that was nice. I used to have a prescription for promethazine, but it’s run out, so he took me to Rite-Aid and then to CVS to see about some anti-nausea meds – the last time I filled the promethazine, the pharmacist told me something similar was available OTC now. I don’t know what they were talking about, because no one at Rite-Aid knew what it was. I ended up getting some generic Dramamine at CVS, because it said it relieved nausea from dizziness. It knocked me out harder than promethazine does, but it didn’t work as well. I’m less nauseous, but still nauseous somewhat. Oh well. Maybe it’s a virus after all. Or maybe if it *is* related to the birth control, it’ll get better as I get more used to the new birth control.
Speaking of which – I seem to have turned into a HORRIBLE sexist cliche: the woman who becomes a monstrous bitch at “that time of the month.” I always thought I didn’t suffer from PMS really, until Greg pointed out that I do tend to be more sensitive to stuff around my period, weepier, basically. I don’t think irritability should really “count,” because I don’t think it’s unreasonable to be irritable when you’re in pain from bad cramps, especially if you’re dealing with irritating people/things. I think it’s kind of a raw deal to expect women to put up with painful period symptoms with a smile and a subservient personality, so fuck that noise. If I’ve got a throbbing broken arm, people would make excuses for me being snappish. But I don’t generally cry easily (therapy doesn’t count here), and I cry more easily around my period. So, PMS. This week I’ve ranged from okay to grumpy (Tuesday) to raging bitch, more or less. It’s pretty awesome. Except really not at all. Like, Greg will be joking over IM about something (like, uh, making spaghetti carbonara with bacos instead of with “real” veggie bacon), and it won’t even occur to me that he’s joking, and I’ll just flip my shit. Yeah, I’m not proud. And my patience lately has been NIL, and I’m getting ridiculously mad over shit that, really, shouldn’t bother me that much.
Last night, I saw Greg’s band, Armored Uprise, play a show in Chapel Hill. They were good. The other band was…not good, so I went home.
Oh – also yesterday, when we came home after work, some of the lights we’d left turned on in the morning were off, some stuff was moved around, and there was a strange flashlight in our back bathroom. The door was still locked, so I figured it was probably maintenance, and the flashlight basically confirms that – but we hadn’t put in any maintenance requests, and they didn’t leave any note, so I’m not sure why they were in our apartment. Or what the sequence of events was that would cause them to forget their flashlight when it’s in a hard-to-miss place, now that I think about it. Anyway, the apartment office had already closed for the evening, but I left a message asking them to call back and let me know if it *was* maintenance, and guess who didn’t call back? Thanks, y’all. You know, in case it somehow magically *wasn’t* maintenance, and we really should have called the cops, it’s a bit fucking late now. Nothing was missing, though. It was definitely maintenance, but I’m just saying: when the maintenance guy(s) and the office people all know the reason we moved in here so fast is I freaked out over our house getting broken into, you’d think maybe they’d be a little careful about not making it look like some stranger’s been in our apartment, and give me something to freak out about. Actually, I’d hope they’d do that for everyone, period. Who knows. Anyway, there was water in the bathroom sink that wasn’t there in the morning, and the shower curtain was shoved to the other end of the curtain rod than we keep it at when not showering, so it looks like whoever it was, was mucking about with the sink and shower. But we haven’t had any problems with them, and can’t see any repairs, so we’re not sure what happened. Eh.
Here are the flowers Greg gave me after my grumpy, grumpy Tuesday. They are beautiful, and I wanted to plant similar ones in our garden when we get back home. He told me what the label on them said, but we’ve tossed it now and I’ve forgotten. Damn. Well, with any luck, they’re a staple at the florist section of the grocery store, so I can just go luck at another bunch of them later, and then find some seeds or bulbs or whatever to plant at the house. Could they be some sort of lily? For some reason, they remind me of tigerlilies, except I *know* they’re not those – tigerlilies are bigger, and aren’t pink, right? (At least, the ones at my dad’s house were huge and orange-y yellow.) Anyway, enough blathering:
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SUCCESS!!!!
Skeeter was crying, and it seemed to be because he couldn’t “find” the water bowl. (And he couldn’t find it because I’ve replaced it with the bubbler, which he’s not into.) So I gave in and put down a “regular” bowl of water, when I’d meant to hold out until right before I went to sleep, in the hopes that they’d just use the bubbler.
So I put the regular bowl down, and Chalupa drinks out of it. And then for some reason, maybe because she finally realized, “Oh, hey, that stuff in the bigger blue thing that bubbles is the SAME LIQUID as in this water bowl I’m used to,” SHE DRANK OUT OF THE BUBBLER. (It’s not actually on and bubbling, but this is a step.)
My plan is to leave the regular bowl out until I see them both frequently drinking from the bubbler, and then remove the regular bowl for good. Then give them at least a week to get used to drinking from the bubbler before I actually turn the bubbling on, and then turning it on to its lowest setting. (Which is pretty tame, since it’s “highest” setting is pretty tame.)
After a full day of staying home and resting, I’m feeling much better. (I also took the opportunity to call and arrange the dwelling and fire insurance on the house to be reverted to real homeowners’ insurance for when we move back in, and called ADT about reactivating the security system. So yay for being productive.) I have narrowed my illness down to a couple possible causes: 1-I could’ve caught a virus from someone; if so, since I never actually threw up but was only grossly nauseous, they will not be put on my shitlist if I find out they’re the one who infected me. 2-It’s that time of the month again, and if you’re anxiously keeping up with this shit (ie, my rag, because I know you care so much), you’ll know that I’m heading for my second period on my new “enough-hormone-that-I-actually-HAVE-a-period” birth control. I’m seriously hoping this is not the case, because if it is, then I get to look forward to horrible fucking stomach AND uterine cramps, debilitating nausea, dizziness, diarrhea AND constipation (oh yes, the doubleheader), etc. Do not want! 3-Food poisoning. Not very likely, considering how averse I am to eating food that seems even *close* to about to spoil. 4-Greg has suggested it is all the vegetables we’ve been eating lately, in a bid to eat more healthily (and also because there were seriously like four days there were it was like pizza and cheese-drenched pasta every day, and even *I* was fucking sick of it and all, “PLEASE can we have some salad?”). And we have had ALOT of vegetables lately, and they fuck up my stomach. (But then *everything* fucks up my stomach, basically.) Anyway, I’m feeling much better, and hoping it was just some dumb stomach bug. Even though a doctor once told me there’s no such thing as a “24-hour stomach bug,” and that that’s just a mild case of food poisoning.
So. I got the cats this newfangled water…dispenser thingy. It’s not a fountain, but it has a bubbler in the base, to aerate the water and keep it fresh. Like an asshole, I set it up and turned the bubbler on immediately, thinking they WOULDN’T be terrified of it, and I was wrong. I set it up yesterday evening, and Skeeter has sniffed it a couple times, but neither of them has drunk out of it. Late last night, I turned the bubbler off, hoping that if the water surface was still (not that it’s that raucous with the bubbler going anyway, but whatever), they might realize this is their new water bowl and get over it. But no. And now Chalupa is driving me fucking bonkers in her attempt to find ANY OTHER SOURCE of water, so that she doesn’t have to drink out of the horrible, horrible, terrifying bubbler, even though the bubbler hasn’t been on for twenty-four hours at this point. Fucking lame. She never gets on the countertops in our micro-kitchen – she just jumped up to see if the fucking faucet was dripping. Apparently water in motion is just peachy in the kitchen sink, but not in her water bowl. Apparently we can get over our fear of running/trickling/gently bubbling water and attempt to drink out of the faucet (not that it’s on) when we’re thirsty enough – but we can’t get over our fear of drinking still water out of the new bubbler. Damn. The joys of cats.
I don’t want them to get dehydrated, though, so I’m going to put out a bowl of water before I go to sleep, if they haven’t tried the bubbler by then. Not that I *really* need to worry about them getting dehydrated, since it’s been one measly day, and they’re getting only wet food now, so they’re getting water from that and don’t need to drink as much “extra” water as when they were getting less wet food because they were also getting dry food. (And we cut out the dry food because Chalupa kept getting constipated, and that is a real pain to deal with. I should tell you sometime about how I was at a work get-together, and got in a lively conversation – not kidding – about the merits of Nature’s Miracle for getting poop stains out of the carpet, which led to general discussion of pets and their vomiting/shitting/pissing/etc ways. Two of the people I was talking with have pets and were right there with me, but the third – pretty sure we scared him a bit. Awesome. Well on my way to being a crazy cat lady. I think I’d already be one, except I only have two cats. I’m pretty sure they don’t give you full membership rights until you have at least three.)
Pictures tomorrow, I’m too busy watching Bones to be buggered with them right now. (I already watched Fringe and House, and can’t watch Lost until tomorrow when it’s available online, and how pissed am I that there’s no new episodes of Fringe until April? FUCK American Idol.)
I’m sick, and it appears to be my “favorite”: a stomach bug.
By “favorite,” I mean “least favorite.”
I’m miserable.
I think I may well hate whoever gave me this.
God. Damn. Sully IS a badass:
I love how Katie keeps asking him shit like, “Did you pray?” or “Did you take a moment to realize you’d diverted a disaster?” (or however she phrased it), or pretty much asking him, “Did you ever flip your shit?” And he’s just like, “No, I was too busy landing the plane.” “No, I wasn’t done yet.” “No, I had a job to do.” Just a stone cold badass. (Also, I like to think that that quip about not praying because he was focused on landing the plane and he’s sure someone in the back had the praying covered – I like to think that means he’s an atheist, and just politely humoring her stupid ass “Did you pray?” question.)
This is especially timely for me considering last Friday, in therapy, we were talking about staying calm when I start feeling panicky, and trying to intentionally relax, because you can’t be anxious and relaxed at the same time. And here’s Sully talking about forcing himself to stay calm and be focused – and it totally worked for him. Super neat.
It’s finally dawned on me that watching all those Kenny vs. Spenny episodes on Youtube is most likely what convinced Youtube that I’m a perv. Seriously. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before, when I *know* what sort of shit goes down on KvS.
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So, I get on Youtube to upload a video of Chalupa playing – and when I log in, there’s a little block of videos Youtube thinks I’ll be interested in. Most of them are Kenny vs. Spenny vids, since that’s what I’ve been watching tonight. But among them, is the video of the monkey (orangutan, actually, I’m pretty sure) pissing into its own mouth. Which I *have* already seen, but not while I was signed into Youtube. What the fuck have I watched while signed in that’s convinced Youtube I’m a perv?
