I know I'm done being sick cuz now I'm sick of being in the house. While I accept that it is relatively early in the evening (8 pm), it just looks so dark and cold and windy outside that I am feeling rather house bound all the same. I mean, even OC is inside (sitting by the heater and being harassed by Monkey).
At least we all got some fresh air at sunset. We enjoyed family time on the deck. I got the two kitties playing with a string tied to the corner of the deck which is affectionately known as Ambush Alley (cuz cats who sit on the deck are eye level with bipeds coming up from the street - allowing for awesome sneak attacks). OC got a little too into the action and ended up rolling off Ambush Alley and onto the path below. Erik reports that he totally pulled it off, proving the whole cats-land-on-their-feet thing.
Anyway, Erik had to go to work early and I'm thinking if I'm not walking I should at least be cleaning the house. I haven't even unpacked from San Diego, having used snot as my excuse for sloth. The movement would probly do me good and it would certainly make the environment nicer.
So I guess I'm off to do that. Another lame post for NaBloPoMo. Sorry for phoning it in.
Oh, speaking of phoning it in, I did get to enjoy a rather lengthy gmail chat today with an old high school buddy of mine. He started out accusing me of drunk dialing him recently (though I don't have his number and haven't actually been drunk much) and ended up threatening to drunk dial me in the near future (as he was going out drinking with his dad... you know, the one who once called me a "grub"...). In between we made empty promises to get together in real life in the Bay Area. Someday. Anyway, I love how hearing from old high school cute boys brings out the frisky teen in me. And I love how the distance (time and space) brings out juicy revelations of various teenage secrets... And then of course there are the standard stories that must be revisited. For example, I'm always disappointed that he doesn't remember showing me his penis is class, while he is always pleased to hear that at least I found it memorable. Anyway, I'm not sure what exactly prompted it, but at some point he called me a goth nerd slut. And I smiled cuz that's so much better than grub.
On that note...
An Easter Miracle
6 years ago
1 comment:
You crack me up. I find it totally amazing that you can recall, fondly or not, your high school days. And not only that, you seem to be able to remember verbatim what classmates (and their parents) said. Wow!
I know I went to high school. I can point out the parking lot where I learned to drive by the lecherous football coach, but in all actuality I can barely believe the whole experience in learning was real and not some big, misty, angst-ridden dream.
Having said that, I doubt seriously if I'd ever forget being called a grub. But somehow I'm not sure that "goth, nerd, slut" is much better.
Perhaps this person does need some drunk dialing. I don't drink but I can dial like a maniac!
-me
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