a worthless weekend

I just had a weekend full of being a worthless slob. It was kind of fun. Dave has 4-day weekends with this schedule, since his last class of the week is on Thursday evening (night!), and his first class of the week is on Tuesday afternoon. So he lay around and was generally useless, and I kind of went along with it.

I have been doing some writing, some cooking, and some cleaning. Last night we went for a walk in the dark, up the street to Tonawanda, and discussed plans for the house once we move in. We know the house's layout, though it's still occupied so we can't exactly go over and measure. So we discussed the disposition of furniture, knowing what we have and roughly where it will fit, and then we discussed possibilities of decor, and the like.

I am conflicted. I want a job, because at the moment my time is not being used effectively. I don't want to laze about forever, but want to find a job and begin to be productive and actually earn money and the like.
But part of what made me miserable in our last apartment was that we never really moved in. Neither of us had so much as one day off for the move, and the work schedules were exhausting during the move. I barely had a chance to unpack, and indeed some things of mine never got unpacked there. By the time I had any spare time, I'd been there so long that it seemed stupid to spend time moving in. So the walls were white and bare over most of the apartment, and I never "moved in".
I don't want that here. I want to have time to move in and get used to the place. I want to have time while moving, to put all in order and get the rooms set up the way I want, and to get used to the organizational system so that I can keep the place tidy. Honestly. Dave's relatives will be over all the time, because it's two blocks from his mom's house, and I don't want his mom to truly have reason to believe that i'm a slob. It's bad enough I'm living in sin with her boy; at least let me not live in slovenly sin.

Anyhow. That's my current worry. Though not to fear-- if all else fails, Dave's buddy Corey can get me a job at Target. Oh yes, Target. I am leaping for joy. :)

Heart Speakers.

IM conversation of the night, with Dave's buddy Corey:

C: My icon is Jimmy Page, guitarist for Led Zeppelin
Me: Oh.
Well. Obviously. I have a picture of him in my wallet.
11:35 PM
C: Right?
Me: Totally. I carry it with me everywhere.
Me: Sometimes, I talk to it.
Me:"Jimmy Page," I say, "guitarist for Led Zeppelin," I say, "what would you do in this situation?"
Me: And he never fucking answers, the bastard.
C: ha
C: He's quite famous in his way
Me: He answers you, doesn't he.
C: In my heart.
Me: Ohhhhh.
Me: I didn't know you had speakers in your heart.
Me: is that good for you?
C: I don't know if it's healthy, but it feels so right
Me: Huh. I was thinking about it, but I'm really not too compelled by it. I mean, what if I get them put in, and then someone lame like Ann Coulter gets a direct line?
Me: Then I'd have some conservative bitch telling shit to my heart.
Me: And that would suck.
Me: But man, I'd love a direct line to the speakers in Dick Cheney's heart.
I'd be telling him shit all the time, I tell you.
C: So you turn a microphone towards your heart, and she just gets this shot of feedback
Me: Yow, I hadn't thought of that.
C: For real.
Me: A vision has entered my mind. A vivid one.
C: Oh?
Me: Of myself, dishevelled, standing in Guitar Center with a microphone to my chest
C: hahaha
Me: shrieking "Get out of my heart, you inhuman bitch!"
C: That'd be awesome!
Me: I should do that.
Especially if I could contrive to blow out the wall of speakers in a dramatic explosion of sparks, and then run like hell.
Me: And get the entire ordeal on video...
C: All to the tune of Heartbreaker by Pat Benatar

Incredibly, I related this in summary to my friend Abbie, also via IM, and she got it, well enough that she couldn't stop giggling either.