buttercup

In real life, I'm a very sarcastic person. Very. VERY. I've been told it's something I inherited from my mom's dad -- I'll never know for sure, since he passed away when I was six? seven? eight? I'm also very cynical, very quick to assume someone is doing something for the least inspiring reason. This all probly has something to do with my experiences in school and beyond, and I will get over it eventually, but I'm trying to work on the sarcasm. It's hard, because it's been one of my main methods of communicating for so many years, and it helps me feel a lot more protected than being genuine does. Plus, some sarcasm is damn funny, no? But I overdo it a lot, I think, and I'd like to be a little more . . . warm, I guess. Also, I'd like Rabbit not to feel like that's the only way to communicate, to be so guarded. It's tricky. It's actually harder not to do all the work that being a sarcastic person takes, even though that doesn't make sense. It's harder to NOT look for that angle, the one that makes it all seem funnier and farther away to me. It makes me feel very weak and soft.

I don't know. I don't get very introspective here -- that's what my passworded journal at home is for, that and bad poetry, hee -- but honeybee's post made me think.

I've been trying to remember this freaking link for the last two days: PopMatters. THERE. Damn, that itch needed to be scratched.

I'm tired.

Had my ENT appointment; the (semi-cute, I must say, very normal looking) doctor felt up my neck and let me know I had some HOTT HOTT swollen lymph nodes. Probly still left over from that stupid infection. Anyway, he says the lump on my jaw is most likely just a leftover swollen lymph node -- I thought they went away within a few months, but he said they can take longer. So taking the lovely antibiotics was pointless. Oh, yay.

Rabbit is over her pneumonia. So that's good. Not a big fan of the inhaler, Rabbit.

WE CLOSED ON THE MORTGAGE! Hahaha, it's such good news that I keep forgetting about it. It's so weird to have it all finalized, after the last three years of flux. And they're rolling our credit cards into the loan, so I don't have those hanging over my head anymore. 23% APR, GOODBYE. Now we just have to deal with medical bills (no interest, so we'll survive) and family loans.

I'm so excited about painting the place and putting in a vegetable garden and a fire-circle thing on the fringe of the woods. (A SAFE fire-circle thing, please calm down.) We've never painted before, and my mind's aboggle with all the colors I want to use. I think I've decided on lime green and some kind of bright (or maybe light) blue for Rabbit's bathroom. And red (not sure what shade yet) for either the dining/living room or the kitchen. So much fun.

Um, what else? I'm kicking ass on the original Buffy xbox game, and I have the bruised thumb to prove it. It's strange to have time to play a video game.

We are swamped at work, so I should go finish up for the day before the pile of paper on my desk devours me. It looks like it could destroy me AND enjoy it.

Here, have a link that's all the rage with the cool kids: Dooce. Seriously, I've seen that blog referenced in different forums recently as much as Pamie was in the olden days. She deserves it, too, she's pretty damn funny.

Oh, and here's another one: Go Fug Yourself. Ah, the perfect way to waste a Friday night while you wait for an e-mail to go through at work. (Yes, FRIDAY NIGHT. I'm Miz Excitement up in here.)

You know who you are:

When you ask a person what's wrong, and they tell you all the things that are worrying them, the correct response is not: "God, I'm so tired of you being WORRIED all the time, maybe you should take some medication."

Just so you know.

K

This is the last night of my 6 pm to 2 am worknights. Dear god, I don't know how y'all late-shifters do it.

My New Year's resolutions will not take effect until January 17th, since my world's a bit haywire right now. Except the book one. That one I'm already working on (mostly while Rabbit naps, since I have to lay down with her because her cough keeps waking her up).

So 2005 started out on an okay note. NYE wasn't that bad, even though it was spent in a state that hates me and with a child who could not possibly care less whether I live or die. C was asleep (as was Rabbit) at the crucial midnight moment, though, so it was all good. (We went by VA time, not AL time, OF COURSE.)

I can't tell whether the Mystery Lump is decreasing in size, but it seems to be a little tiny bit smaller. I'm supposed to be doing warm compresses three times a day, but since I barely have time to shower these days, I haven't gotten around to it.

And where is my time going? It's being spent coddling Rabbit, who has pneumonia. Since she can't leave the house (and mos def cannot go to the babysitter's house), we're stuck there all day long. You can only keep a twenty-two month old laying down for so long before she decides it's no fun, so I'm having to play Evil Mean Prison Warden. Added bonus: she has to have breathing treatments six times a day; this involves an inhaler/aerochamber contraption that goes over her face like a surgical mask. She HATES it. If she were a little bit older, I could try to reason with her, but at this age, all I can do is kind of pin her arms at her sides and hold her face still. It's horrible. Other than that, the being cooped up thing isn't so bad, except the house is a hideous mess and I don't get a chance to clean it up because I have to work nights after Ben comes home (since I can't come in during the day).

So all that would make it seem like 2005 started off really badly, right? EXCEPT we also got word back from the bank, and our place appraised at twice what we owe for it. I almost cried. Not really, but it's awesome, isn't it? It makes the chances of our getting that mortgage a little better, and it helps as far as requesting that our credit cards be rolled into the mortgage goes.

Good news and bad news is better than the last few years' all bad news. I'll take it.