I went to bed with the tree bukkake problems and woke up with same. It was only after I rinsed out my nose with the bottle of nose-spray saline-type crap that I could breathe again.
After the nose was no longer a problem, I went to share my plasma. Still with the steady decrease in general mass. I am pleased. I was bored by the movies, and it took longer than usual because the phlebotomist who stuck the needle in stuck it a little too far in, and there were problems with the red cell return cycle. So that got really slowed down, even after they fixed the problem, because they turned the pump speed down to about half even after the problem got fixed. And it felt funny, too.
The slow plasma thing together with the slow start in the morning meant that I was not on hand to pick up the Little Fayoumis when needed. Happy I am for the cellphones! Marx picked up the LF with no problems.
marxdarx is now also working at Hell: he starts Saturday. My roommatesister will be working there too (assuming she is hired). As the commute & so forth were killing the budget what with the price of gas these days, there will be a lot of walking. *nods*
I've got my mind, I've got my orange crush.
Last night there was an expedition out to get some more of the Mountain Dew Livewire. There was one bottle left at the local grocery store. Today, there were none of the large bottles. My roommatesister and I had to stray two miles or more out of our way in order to get some. I went a little psychotic, and got 20 liters (10 two-liter bottles).
Hamsters, weddings, poets, Stalin
digitalambience is getting married on the 15th of May. He is telling everyone he knows, more or less smugly. My roommatesister had to ask him, when he initially said he would be getting married in May, "Getting married on Beltane?" "Valentine's?" he asked, Beltane not being in his lexicon. "That was in February. May 15th." (Recounting the incident to marxdarx just now, he suggested that butane would be another close match for those without the pagan holiday dictionary expansion pack. "This is my Beltane lighter!" "Shaped like a penis!" I giggled. Marx fled.) I filled Sis in on the incident with the fiancee over Y! IM. (The fiancee had signed in on the man's IM account and sent me a message posing as him wanting to talk over old times. The Lunatic was ... amused ... (for certain very liberal values of "amused") ... but not deceived. ) Conclusion? Perfect couple.
I got myself some Claritin for the allergy issue. So far it's doing a decent job. We'll see how it holds up overnight. If it really does work for me, I'm possibly so switching to it. I'll be due my next dose at 5 tomorrow when I'm at work. I've got it in my purse. I shouldn't forget it. I got the 5-dose box so I wouldn't be wasting much money if it didn't work, but this seems to be doing a good job against industrial-strength tree bukkake. My body started warning me the other day that it was just as well that Sis had not gotten the allergy meds that I'd been using, because those are about to lose their effectiveness on me. I trust my body when it tells me these things.
After I came back home from seeing my roommatesister off to her application meeting for the job, I zoomed out to freshstartwrite. I got there early. It didn't really go live until 6:30 or 6:45, when more people than just three (me, the Pirate Queen, and one of the newer women) showed. Various people shared various things. I got some writing in.
At the writing group, I told the tale of the April Fool's Day Spotted Dick, and there were howls of laughter. Inordinate howls of laughter, in fact. It's possible to make so much innuendo out of one innocent pudding (with custard).... We determined that we would like at some point to take a field trip.
I slipped nicely from the Spotted Dick into the introduction to my actual written piece, which was a vague recap of theferrett's assertion that those writing love songs tend to mention very much far less the amount of work that goes into maintaining a close relationship than it actually takes. I had written a sort of love poem thing based on that. I'd copied down the original post into my paper journal, and as people had been trickling in, I'd been working on expanding and re-phrasing it. I'd been working out of the bond, so it was intense stuff to my eyes and ears, and judging by the reaction of the group, a general round of *stunned* and *wow*, it came out that way as well. It didn't hurt that I was sort of purring it, like I did when reading "To his Coy Mistress" on the phone post the other day.
More Writing Group
It was nice to hang out with the people. There was a new person this time, and she had an excellent bit of poetry. Some of the other newer usual suspects were there. The usual group leader wasn't there, but her deputy was, despite the new job. All was quite happy. There was a reprise of "the tampon-swinging story", where a mother reviewed some of the silliest moments in the upbringing of her boy. I drew a cartoon of same, and she's going to take it home and put it up and see what he says about it.
I have had an interesting relationship with buses today. The first bus in the morning was great. It was the nice long kind of bus, with the articulated middle. I wound up sitting way back in the back. I like doing that with the long buses. It makes me feel almost as if I'm on an airplane. I like airplanes. I like large forms of mass transit. Not sure why. The second bus, coming back from the plasma place, was crowded with schoolchildren from Dragonflye, all in school uniform. I got off that bus at the nearest connection, because it was jammed and I was not up for standing. I wound up having a conversation with a co-worker who skeeved me only mildly, given that I'm not particularly accustomed to giving out even the general area where I live on first contact with a stranger. "Near my school" was as much as I was willing to say. I'm a bit private in person. Furthermore, the bus that both of us then got on smelled strongly of none-too-fresh boiled eggs, which is one of my least favorite smells. (I can't abide Easter for this reason alone.) Heading out to writing group, the Red Line bus I was on kept stalling, much to the disconcertion of the people onboard, and I had to scurry to make it to the McDowell line. Coming back, however, all the stars and buses were aligned just right so that I only had to wait a few minutes at either stop, and I wasn't particularly crowded with the weirdest of the weird on the bus.
My meep is curled up in my bed. The Mosh is curled up on the back of the couch in my room. All is therefore good.
I have my schedule re-arranged to account for Marx's new schedule. I work tomorrow, but not Saturday, and though I theoretically do work Sunday, the office is closed for Easter.
For Easter, the household is visiting my roommatesister's great-aunt's annual Easter bash. I hope there's something the household can eat there, as one of the traditional Easter main dishes is ham, and this household shows solidarity with my roommatesister's complete inability to digest pork when visiting her biological relations.