State of the Cotillion address
So many things I want to do.
So many things I have to do.
Only about half of each list is actually getting done these days.
No matter how grounded I keep thinking I am, the truth is that I'm still going around in a bit of a daze. This is not to say that I don't carry on in a spectacularly half-assed manner even on my best days, but right now, it's even worse than usual. I swear I'd lose my tits if they weren't attached (and slapping me on the knees as I walk - oh yeah, forgot to put on a bra, too!). People who see me are probably convinced I'm about three staggering steps away from living out of a shopping cart. You know what, though? They're totally out of line there - it's five steps, fuckers. Five.
I sleep a lot. There's no way to put an exact number on it, because there's a fine line between flipping aimlessly through the TV channels and actually sleeping, but I'd be willing to bet I'm asleep at least as much as I'm awake, if not more. The cats alternately love it, because I'm in one spot with enough room for them to cuddle and/or attack me, and hate it, because I'm not up feeding them. There is neither rhyme nor reason to my sleep schedule, because I usually sleep for a few hours, get up for a few hours, go back to sleep for a few more hours, and so on. Obviously, that will all have to change once I get a "have to leave the house and go to it" job. Because I doubt I will find any boss, no matter how understanding, who will say things like "Oh, just sleep when the need hits you!"
I'm still sleeping in the living room, because my bed is also the couch right now, but I'm working on rectifying that (although I will miss sleeping with the giant TV right in front of me). I've got furniture picked out that I want for the living room, so my couch can go in the bedroom and become a full-time bed, but I figure there's no point in moving brand-new furniture in until the painting's done. The bedroom is almost completely painted (I just need to add the accent trim), and then I can order my chaise for in there. Yes, I want a fainting couch. No, I need it. My inner southern belle demands it in the sternest of tones. Once the living room is painted, I can have them ship me my love seat and another chaise (yes, I will have two fainting couches in the house - what if another southern belle drops by and gets the vapors?). Hopefully the lure of new furniture will be the carrot on a stick I need to get the painting done. Who knew you could paint with carrots?
This morning, I also made myself get up and take care of an odious task, even more odious than passing by one of my large bathroom mirrors while I'm naked. I paid a visit to a nice accountant at H&R Block and gave her my tax information. See, I've always done my own taxes before this year. But my financial and residential statuses were both extra complicated in 2006, and when I filled out my own 1040, as well as forms for Michigan and Illinois, I kept coming up with figures that could only serve to fuck me harshly in the ass with a pointy crab fork. After the accountant went through my paperwork, it appeared I'm still getting reamed, but for less than I'd calculated. The difference was...hmmm...enough to buy a love seat and a chaise.
All in all, even though a normal person would have a lot more finished, my point is that things are getting done around here. Hell, I might even get the crazy notion to groom one of these days. But don't hold your breath for that one.
So many things I have to do.
Only about half of each list is actually getting done these days.
No matter how grounded I keep thinking I am, the truth is that I'm still going around in a bit of a daze. This is not to say that I don't carry on in a spectacularly half-assed manner even on my best days, but right now, it's even worse than usual. I swear I'd lose my tits if they weren't attached (and slapping me on the knees as I walk - oh yeah, forgot to put on a bra, too!). People who see me are probably convinced I'm about three staggering steps away from living out of a shopping cart. You know what, though? They're totally out of line there - it's five steps, fuckers. Five.
I sleep a lot. There's no way to put an exact number on it, because there's a fine line between flipping aimlessly through the TV channels and actually sleeping, but I'd be willing to bet I'm asleep at least as much as I'm awake, if not more. The cats alternately love it, because I'm in one spot with enough room for them to cuddle and/or attack me, and hate it, because I'm not up feeding them. There is neither rhyme nor reason to my sleep schedule, because I usually sleep for a few hours, get up for a few hours, go back to sleep for a few more hours, and so on. Obviously, that will all have to change once I get a "have to leave the house and go to it" job. Because I doubt I will find any boss, no matter how understanding, who will say things like "Oh, just sleep when the need hits you!"
I'm still sleeping in the living room, because my bed is also the couch right now, but I'm working on rectifying that (although I will miss sleeping with the giant TV right in front of me). I've got furniture picked out that I want for the living room, so my couch can go in the bedroom and become a full-time bed, but I figure there's no point in moving brand-new furniture in until the painting's done. The bedroom is almost completely painted (I just need to add the accent trim), and then I can order my chaise for in there. Yes, I want a fainting couch. No, I need it. My inner southern belle demands it in the sternest of tones. Once the living room is painted, I can have them ship me my love seat and another chaise (yes, I will have two fainting couches in the house - what if another southern belle drops by and gets the vapors?). Hopefully the lure of new furniture will be the carrot on a stick I need to get the painting done. Who knew you could paint with carrots?
This morning, I also made myself get up and take care of an odious task, even more odious than passing by one of my large bathroom mirrors while I'm naked. I paid a visit to a nice accountant at H&R Block and gave her my tax information. See, I've always done my own taxes before this year. But my financial and residential statuses were both extra complicated in 2006, and when I filled out my own 1040, as well as forms for Michigan and Illinois, I kept coming up with figures that could only serve to fuck me harshly in the ass with a pointy crab fork. After the accountant went through my paperwork, it appeared I'm still getting reamed, but for less than I'd calculated. The difference was...hmmm...enough to buy a love seat and a chaise.
All in all, even though a normal person would have a lot more finished, my point is that things are getting done around here. Hell, I might even get the crazy notion to groom one of these days. But don't hold your breath for that one.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 11:00 PM
7 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
You're getting things done? That sucks. I'M not. Oh well.
Sleep. Do some stuff. Sleep. Do some stuff. ... sounds like a plan to me.
If you want to sleep a lot then you need to sleep a lot. You'll get things done in your own time. Just keep doing what you're doing and you'll be fine. :)
At first I thought the title was, "State of the Cotillion dress", which you may rightly have guessed, was nearly enough to make me choke on my chicken stir-fry. After such an apparition, the actual post seems rather tame and pleasant.
Carry on.
"...I kept coming up with figures that could only serve to fuck me harshly in the ass with a pointy crab fork."
That phrase is a classic in the making.
*keeping far away from teh crab forks*
Groom...I know there is a bad joke or four in there somewhere. But my brain is dead.
Glad you are getting crap done.
You'll just get everything done as it needs to be done. You're doing fine.
Thank goodness for someone to help you with your taxes.
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