April 18th, 2004

running, bomb tech

Yet another reason to love BJ...

If I didn't mention it before, I will now.

My Phantom of the Opera CD was not scratched before I got together with BJ. After we split up, it was. I shan't attribute to malice what I can attribute to a lazy-ass teenage cleaning ethic and a disregard for fine data, but I'm still pissed.
running, bomb tech

Oh, don't we love to wake up like this in the morning.

Woke up from very bizarre Slytherin dreams (I was hanging with a large number of House of Ill Faith crew, and in chatrooms in treehouses), where Az-the-Elder had been the anonymous writer of some new and brilliant prank fic, to a Soda Disaster. The Little Fayoumis had spilled his soda all over the floor, and the rest of the crowd had to leave Right Now or they'd be late.

Since I'd just woken up from the end of the dream where I was packing my lunch with frantic haste lest I be late, leaving with the roommates for work, I was already in the un-holiday spirit. I was happy to discover that while the "all over" was worst than my wildest fears, the "floor" was no problem. One 20oz cup of vanilla-flavored cola all over the kitchen linoleum. No worries, not with rags under the bathroom sink. Mommy dispatched the Little Fayoumis to his room to get dressed (to keep him out of the way) as she zoomed out the door; I went and got my former flannel nightgown, which absorbed 19.999 ounces of soda from the floor. I got a few more rags and wiped up most of the residual stickiness.

The Little Fayoumis, meanwhile, was berating himself for screwing up. "It's all my fault!" he said miserably.
"So what could you do next time?" I asked.
"Not drop it," he said.
"Maybe you could fill the cup not so full?" I asked.
"Mom filled it."
"Maybe you could hold on tighter?"
"I could not drop it!"

*sigh*
running, bomb tech

Housework, whoo boy!

Have not yet mopped floor. Have given lunch to small and arguably hyper boy. Cleaned catboxen. Started dishes. Did not give the small and arguably hyper boy ice-cream. I did, however, give him a popsicle.

I hope work is mercifully short/calm/asshat-free. My sleep was for shit, and there were random and funky dreams, such as trying to watch Episode 3 of Star Wars in company with some people who never showed up, with my virtual aunt as projectionist showing the wrong film.
running, bomb tech

Coordinated Geeking

The Little Fayoumis has been asking me Star Wars questions today. We really do need to raid Zia for the classic tapes and share...
running, bomb tech

Grr, argh.

Yahoo Mail and my browser are not playing nicely together. Joyfulness.
running, bomb tech

Chilly

It's that time of night. It's late, and there are no noises of people about.

I miss my big brother so very much.