sigh.

Must leave for work in half hour. Am wet, towel-clad, sitting on the bed.
This morning the birds were singing, loudly. Repetitively. I couldn't recognize any of the songs.
I have suddenly been reminded of the way a redwing blackbird sounds in a summer field. It's a warm sound.
No fields here, big clean empty fields where the grass grows out to seed and you can catch the tops in your hand as you lean out the space on the Jeep where the door never was.

I believe I am homesick. Also, I miss summer.

I hope this weekend I can do some gardening and be OUTSIDE a little bit.
I have tidying to do as well.
And a great deal of other things to catch up on.

Maybe I'll actually have time to take pictures of crocuses. If any are left.

I dreamed things I don't remember. Dreamed that my parents sold their house, although that doesn't remain as a dream so much as a thought of the possibility, which had never crossed my mind before. Dreamed about work, boringly. Dreamed about Dave but I don't remember what I dreamed.

Dave, underwear-clad but bright-eyed (inasmuch as he ever is, behind those heavy lids) informs me he feels motivated today and is going to embark upon a project to drain the standing water from the backyard. This pleases me immensely. We shall see how it goes.

dancin on a friday night

So the week ended.
I had my best week ever this week, in terms of how much money I made. Holy shit, man.
I keep my tips in an Excel spreadsheet and have managed to figure out how to chart them. Looking at the chart... Well, let's just say that today when I put this week's figures in the chart autoupdated and increased its Y axis by $100.
( chaos! whee! I'm too tired to care! )

Dave's drainage project failed; I should've just let him go with his other idea. Muh. Am too tired to care. I wish I cared; he was rather upset about it and I should've listened to him more closely. But am so very, very tired. at the moment am slightly annoyed because was talking to him in living room and my feet were tired so I came into my room to lie down a bit, and he won't get up off the couch to continue the conversation. He's just lying on the couch; he has a laptop and could amuse himself on the Internet (which we often do during conversations; this is just normal) in any room he chose. I have a desktop, and if I want to catch up on my Internet use I *have* to be in this room. So his insistence that I be the one to relocate annoys me more than it ought to.
Meh, I'll be home for three days. I'll probably see him. In the meantime, I am not standing in the living room to talk to him. My feet fucking well hurt.

Had deep things to say but was interrupted by dinner and now am probably going to go to bed. Sorry, Internet. I'll read you later.