Duh!

I can never come up with good titles for posts, so I should just stop.

Have just been weeding garden. Someone has been eating, of all things, the night bloomers. A couple of them have all their leaves missing, as though some helpful human grabbed them by the leaves as if to pull them out (they do look like weeds) and instead broke them all off, but, I didn't and Dave didn't, and nobody else weeds our garden. I hope.
Of all the lush, succulent foliage in the gardens, after all this goddamned rain we've had (it has rained every day for the last perhaps two weeks), someone has chosen to eat the spiky thin leaves of the nightbloomers. Go figure.

Bad foosh news:
Al is fine. Gibson is fine, if bewilderingly pale. (I didn't think bettas changed color but he has been slowly transforming ever since we got him.)
But Shirley...
Shirley tried to run away. Even though there's a top on the tank, she somehow managed to jump out the two-inch gap where the filter input comes in. Dave found her on the floor, looking, well, a bit chagrined at her own poor judgement. We don't know how long she was out. She didn't exactly make much noise.
She's in the sick-bowl now, with a mesh splatter-guard (bought for a frying pan, only ever used on misinformed fish) keeping her in. She's very subdued. She's probably hurt herself badly enough that she won't make it. Bettas can breathe air directly from the atmosphere, and can survive out of water for a while, but it damages their delicate skin and is in general sort of bad for them, and they don't always recover. She gives me an evil look whenever I bend to look at her in the bowl, but without her customary clueless fire, so I'm not so hopeful for her.

Ah well. In future we shall have to hold seminars for our fish on the perils of running away: i.e., you won't make it. Someone seems to have filled their heads full of nonsense about some sort of fish-topia outside the bowl, which is simply not the case. Apparently this is species-wide-- despite the fact that they're indifferent swimmers and their fins are riduclous, it seems that bettas do jump quite a distance. To the chagrin of those who think that since they keep 'em in little bowls without covers at the pet shop, it's safe to do so at home. No... if they're happy and healthy, for some reason they get ambitious.

So, let that be a lesson: even if the tank is covered, the fish will still find the gaps. Yi!

what the fuck?

Am utterly bewildered, and think it's time to give up on my stupid iJournal livejournal client.
Just posted an entry.
Doesn't show up on my friends' page.
Does show up on my recent entries page.
Um, with two comments that relate to an earlier entry appended to it.
...
The dates on the comments have also been changed, as far as I can tell.

The entry just previous to this one. There's a comment from Kat, responding to an earlier entry that I can't find. And my response to it. Both comments claim to have been posted this morning. Both certainly were not.

The notification email of the comments arrived June 18th, according to Gmail. The comments, according to Livejournal, were posted June 19th. That's a new one on me.

The post in question was this post: ( The one where I bitched about having beer spilled on me. )

When I click the link to the post in my notification email, it takes me to the post I just made.
Apparently somehow it replaced the earlier one. I am sure this is iJournal's fault, because I composed that post in it and attempted to post it that way and it hung, so I quit it. I deleted that post from it and posted it using the web client. This morning I restarted iJournal, re-logged-in, and posted that post I just made. Somehow, it had that entry's ID number or something in it, and so it posted it as the time it is now, but backdated it so it's not on my friend's page, and overwrote the earlier entry, and kept its comments but changed their date, which is retarded.

So yes. There you have it. My system of notifiers is breaking down because nobody else can program like Dave. His Gmail notifier is working awesomely, by the way.
Now if only he gave a shit about LJ and would fix me up an LJ notifier/client THAT ACTUALLY WORKED.

little things

OK, so iJournal's out for being useless, and now Xjournal has proven itself to be utterly not worth the effort (it won't let me change the password on my account. What, are we supposed to never change our passwords? By "edit accounts" it means "either add or delete accounts", which is not the same thing. Stupid).
Poorly designed. Nobody with a brain has written a client for LJ that runs on OS X. The only, single one and only thing I miss from when I was a Windows user is that infinite monkeys running the same system eventually come up with an LJ client that doesn't actively blow goats in its spare time.

So. Web client, which puts a kink in my newfound freedom-from-the-ever-open-browserwindow style. *shakes fist*

Have eaten half a bagel, with cream cheese. Am proud of self. More recently ate a Wegman's knockoff Oreo and am ruing it bitterly. Rue! It hurts.

Hmm, but fleetingly. The W-Os are calling to me. "Woe! Woe!"

Anyhow.

Have just mopped kitchen floor. Am astonished by... how little difference it made. Depressing, really.

Apart from Shirley/Fooshella's probable about-to-dieness (discussed in the iJournal-fucked post two posts previous to this one), and my inability to cope with the concept of eating, all is well. Dave has got the kitchen clean and sparkling. I have done some laundry. I have tomorrow off and the day after. Dave has his job interview tomorrow. (Can't type with fingers crossed, so do pardon me.) Dave's even managed to keep his suit nice so I don't have to iron it at the last minute again. Even the tie is hung up. (Because I hung it up after the last time he shed it on the floor.)
I have two weeks minus two days to a) make the house nice and b) find the charger for my fucking camera. I am highly hopeful that a) will yield b). Everything else in life is sort of beside the point by now.
Have just done weekly math to determine how much I earned. Saturday morning I earned less than I have ever really earned in an entire uninterrupted non-Club shift, and I noticed that they have put me on for Saturday mornings for the forseeable future. I am going to discuss that with some people who might be better-informed than I: It is not worth my while to come in on a Saturday morning to sit in Torture Bar and rotate on my thumb. If I do get another job I'm going to tell them I can work Saturdays (thus being unavailable to the airport on Saturdays). God damn, Saturdays are retarded at the airport. 11-7 isn't bad; 9-4 is useless.

But i don't really want another job. I don't. I hated working a double so much. I am not the sort of person who can work more than 40 hours a week. I do not like being outside my house. I really don't. And I hate it when I get a day off here, a day off there, a day off in the middle, and never multiples at once. Guh. I need long uninterrupted spans at once of just being home and free; I am a very poor time manager and it takes me a very long time to get into anything.

Oh now the dissipating tummyache has become a headache. I am not amused. Enough blathering. I can't judge in the web client how long a post is, so I don't know if this warrants a cut. Do forgive me if it's long. I have to find a client that doesn't bite my ass, but I'm running low on ones to try.