As it happened, I was working from home this morning awaiting the arrival of a super-cheap elliptical machine I just ordered (let’s hope it doesn’t fall apart the first time I hop on it!). I sat comfortably at my work station in my bathrobe and faux-fur trimmed slippers while wet, rainy weather-clad people stood morosely waiting for their bus to come (have I mentioned that I live directly above a bustling bus line? I’m finally getting used to the constant hum of AC Transit outside my window). There were veritable swimming-pool-sized puddles on the sidewalks, and it looked like the River Thames was flowing down MacArthur Boulevard. I thanked my lucky stars that I did not have to brave the weather trying to get in to the office. There is only limited parking available (for a price) at my office, so in recent months I’ve been bussing it or carpooling. My carpool buddy has been out on vacation all week. I might have joined the morose masses were in not for the 60-pound hunk of metal I was waiting to have delivered.
When the UPS man finally dropped off my machine, he looked at me (still in my bathrobe and slippers), and said, “I wish I was in your shoes today.” I realized for the first time today how much this crappy weather sucks for delivery people. I mean, we all know that they are out in the elements every day dropping off our precious parcels, but maybe we don’t give it much thought. It was raining cats and dogs, and this delivery had to lug my package out of his truck. I thanked him and told him I thought I could get the thing upstairs myself. Then I told him to have a good weekend. He gave me a look as if to say, “Thanks, people don’t say that kind of thing to me very often” and told me to do the same. I then proceeded to nearly break my back getting my package upstairs. Heck, I don’t need to assemble that thing now—it was work out enough getting it into my apartment!
The kitties were happy to have me at home with them. They literally stepped on top of each other, scrambling to be on my lap as I worked at my laptop. Yes, that’s right, I said kitties. Matt hasn’t taken Violet yet, but tonight she goes to his house. Fiona will be sad to lose her play buddy, but I hope she can make due with her human. I swear, cats really do sleep 20 hours of the day. They slept a majority of the time I was here during the day, and yet they usually sleep until I go to bed around 11:30 p.m. too. They only decide that they are energetic when I turn out the lights. Yes, I know…they are nocturnal. I wonder if there is a way to train them not to be.
The other day I was lamenting the fact that my new 5-year diary (which I expressly requested for Christmas) allows only enough space to write about 5 abbreviated sentences. If the diary allowed any more room, it would be the size of the ten commandments tablet, and not the cute, compact book size that it is right now. I’m still getting used to this whole blogging thing, so it didn’t immediately occur to me that I can summarize the day’s events in the hard-copy diary, and then keep a more detailed account of my life online. I still worry that all of the computers in the world could go kaput, and I might lose all of my memories. But I’ll give this a shot.
Poor Matt had his titanium implant at the periodontist yesterday, and has been relegated to eating only tepid, mushy food (think: lots of jamba juice) for an undetermined amount of time. That said, I’ve got to go prepare his pasta and refrigerate it so it’s cool by the time he gets here.
Here’s a message to all: don’t fall out of a tree on your face when you’re ten…or at any age. It could haunt you for a long time like poor Matthew. :(
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