April 11th, 2005

phone, cordless phone

Evening: telephones and crocodiles.

Naps are very good things. My sleep schedule is still messed up, but I'm going to have to live with that. I wound up calling Dawn; we talked about things.

There is at least the vague possibility that Darkside thinks of me on more of a pedestal than I ought to be. (The idea was proposed by Figment some days ago, and I ran it past Dawn shortly thereafter, and she agreed that might be a factor.) We ought to be on even footing. I am sometimes apt to think of him as the better man. It follows that he might think of me the same way, especially given that he does often censor his sense of humor around me. I censor mine around him, though, so it's at least fair.

I have taken to comparing Figment's incessant drive to get me together with Darkside to the vaguely foolhardy antics of the Crocodile Hunter. Dawn and I had a good giggle over that ("And 'ere's the lair of the elusive computer geek. We're tryin' to introduce this 'un to a mate. Woah, careful! Easy there. 'E's got a temper, 'e 'as...") and if Darkside ever finds out just how hard we giggled over that mental image, both of us are going to be in so very much trouble...

Figment came by with movies, and we wound up watching The Crocodile Hunter: Collision Course, mostly because my sense of humor required that I actually see something with Steve Irwin before I made too many more jokes involving Darkside as a potentially dangerous wild thing (that should be left alone and not picked up and poked at). This was sufficiently cute, and featured several very adorable snakes, as well as inexplicable action sequences.

Evidently my saying, "I can't believe it's not napalm!" after pulling a bag of popcorn out of the microwave resulted in Figment becoming paranoid. There were some amusing exchanges with me pretending to sound the sort of innocent that really means guilty, just for the fun of it. Men are fun to play with.
  • Current Music
    (I should really be playing "Reptiles and Samurai", but I'm not.)
twilight, Fairbanks to Phoenix, two worlds


I passed the old apartment a few days ago, and saw the the apartment immediately next to ours, the little one-bedroom that had been occupied by the woman who I called "the crazy hat lady" was empty and being cleaned out.

It always makes me a little sad to see people leaving, especially when I don't know the circumstances. Did she get transferred somewhere else? Did she have relatives to take her in? Did she become ill? Did she die? I don't know, and there's really no way for me to find out, not without being more nosy than I want to be.
  • Current Music
    dishwasher inside, traffic outside