dragonlady7 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonlady7) wrote2007-08-16 01:13 pm
dragonlady7) wrote2007-08-16 01:13 pm
for some reason
For some reason I really really want to go out to dinner tonight and drink a very large beer and eat something fried.
Dunno why.
Just want to.
This morning I woke early enough to both take a shower *and* put a second coat of purple on at least two important areas of trim, so that tonight I can hopefully decide they're done and don't need touching up so I can peel up the tape and push furniture back into position, and start to get on with my life.
I don't think I made Z do any work at all last night, though he did perform the invaluable service of keeping Chita entertained and away from my damn paintwork. I did one coat on trim right when I got home, and stayed up until 10 pm to do the next coat because it said not to re-coat for 4 hours.
Thank God it hasn't been humid. This living room was supposed to be done this week so Z could start working on his room this weekend. I don't think he will-- even if we were ready and had the paint, I just don't think he can work so hard without a break. Last night doesn't necessarily count as a break for him. He needs a lot of down time, even more than me.
But that just means that we can start a new project next week and he'll be motivated. I'm trying to persuade him to work on the hall ceiling by himself, but I can't blame him if he doesn't-- it's a wreck.
Me, I'm taking the train at 4am on Saturday to go visit my folks and my sister, for her baby shower and my birthday party. I figure on bringing my laptop (I mean, of course, duh) and getting a lot of work done, to make up for the fact that I've done almost no writing this month yet. Blegh.
Oh, random aside: so I had this great opening come to me, for this novel I never realized I wanted to write. And I told Z. I'm on a chair, painting the wall, and this is how the conversation went.
"I have this idea for a novel," I say, somewhat absently.
"Yeah," Z says, who hears this kind of a lot. (He's trying to paint an edge.)
"It's a lesbian swashbuckling adventure," I say, putting down the brush for a moment and turning to beam at him, pleased with my own wit.
"Yeah," he says, unenthused.
"You don't think that'd be cool?" I ask, pouting slightly, mostly to see if he's listening.
"I think it'll go over real well with the Lilith Fair crowd," he answers. "Like middle-aged feminists and all."
"Shuddup!" I say. "It'll be hot!"
"Yeah," he says. "Like I said."
The moral of the story, indirectly, is that I should never assume he's not listening, because usually he is. Whereas the converse is often more amusing-- he can freely assume I'm not listening and say really weird things, like the phrase "coochy cream", and only minutes later will I surface from what I'm reading.
"Did you say coochy cream?" I blink. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
He'll just shrug. "I don't remember. Weren't you listening?"
"I swear to God you just said 'coochy cream,'" I'll say.
"You said mm-hmm at the time," he says. "I sorta moved on."
"God damn it." Of course then I have to Google it. Apparently it really exists. Oh my.
Dunno why.
Just want to.
This morning I woke early enough to both take a shower *and* put a second coat of purple on at least two important areas of trim, so that tonight I can hopefully decide they're done and don't need touching up so I can peel up the tape and push furniture back into position, and start to get on with my life.
I don't think I made Z do any work at all last night, though he did perform the invaluable service of keeping Chita entertained and away from my damn paintwork. I did one coat on trim right when I got home, and stayed up until 10 pm to do the next coat because it said not to re-coat for 4 hours.
Thank God it hasn't been humid. This living room was supposed to be done this week so Z could start working on his room this weekend. I don't think he will-- even if we were ready and had the paint, I just don't think he can work so hard without a break. Last night doesn't necessarily count as a break for him. He needs a lot of down time, even more than me.
But that just means that we can start a new project next week and he'll be motivated. I'm trying to persuade him to work on the hall ceiling by himself, but I can't blame him if he doesn't-- it's a wreck.
Me, I'm taking the train at 4am on Saturday to go visit my folks and my sister, for her baby shower and my birthday party. I figure on bringing my laptop (I mean, of course, duh) and getting a lot of work done, to make up for the fact that I've done almost no writing this month yet. Blegh.
Oh, random aside: so I had this great opening come to me, for this novel I never realized I wanted to write. And I told Z. I'm on a chair, painting the wall, and this is how the conversation went.
"I have this idea for a novel," I say, somewhat absently.
"Yeah," Z says, who hears this kind of a lot. (He's trying to paint an edge.)
"It's a lesbian swashbuckling adventure," I say, putting down the brush for a moment and turning to beam at him, pleased with my own wit.
"Yeah," he says, unenthused.
"You don't think that'd be cool?" I ask, pouting slightly, mostly to see if he's listening.
"I think it'll go over real well with the Lilith Fair crowd," he answers. "Like middle-aged feminists and all."
"Shuddup!" I say. "It'll be hot!"
"Yeah," he says. "Like I said."
The moral of the story, indirectly, is that I should never assume he's not listening, because usually he is. Whereas the converse is often more amusing-- he can freely assume I'm not listening and say really weird things, like the phrase "coochy cream", and only minutes later will I surface from what I'm reading.
"Did you say coochy cream?" I blink. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
He'll just shrug. "I don't remember. Weren't you listening?"
"I swear to God you just said 'coochy cream,'" I'll say.
"You said mm-hmm at the time," he says. "I sorta moved on."
"God damn it." Of course then I have to Google it. Apparently it really exists. Oh my.
no subject
no subject
After that I don't know what's happening all day, but I know I have a birthday dinner that evening. Not sure what time. You could probably come to that, if you wanted, at my folks' house.
Sunday I am on Grandma Duty all day-- though I don't know what time that starts. Katy's baby shower is Sunday, and Mom figures if I am the designated one paying attention to Grandma, then she'll be OK. (Grandma doesn't get around well at this point, though she's at least mentally mostly there.)
And then I have to go straight from the baby shower to get the train home. There was a nice later train I would've been great taking, but the stupid thing is either cancelled or sold out, Amtrak.com isn't sure. Bah.
no subject
I don't want to crash the birthday party, that would be a bit weirder than my normal weirdness.
Perhaps I'll have to stalk you from afar.
no subject
Yes, 10:30 am on Saturday. Which means i have to catch the train at 4:30 am. Great stuff.
no subject