(no subject)
May. 30th, 2002 07:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7mood: sore
music: somethingerother from green day’s nimrod stuck in my head
subject: well, my body and all my stuff made it home.
This old keyboard is pretty stiff. I’m used to mine—I hit mine too hard, because it hardly needs the keys touched… this one you really gotta push. Especially the damn space key. soifidon’thavespacesthat’swhy.
Moving was the hell I thought it would be, pretty much—took me 5 hours with dad and ann to get everything into the truck, because it just wasn’t organized.
Like the idiot I knew I’d be, I left the bills for Darius to take care of. He sounded unenthusiastic when I informed him of this over the phone. But he also said he’d do it. He may have been being nice to me, I’m not sure. He’s hard to follow, over the phone. I can see how people in the past have suggested that a phone relationship with him isn’t the most rewarding. Ditto for IM. I’m used to him in person. I can read when he’s pissed at me. It’s not voice tone, or choice of words; it’s his facial expression. Most people are like this, I know, it’s just my most recent encounter with the phenomenon. It just makes me feel emotionally retarded, when I’m talking to someone I know well and haven’t a clue in hell whether they’re sarcastic, amused, annoyed, resigned, or what. What? I don’t know.
I forgot my microwave, and a carpet. Neither is crucial; I have another microwave, apparently.
Today Dad’s taking another day off work to UNload the truck of my stuff. Stoppit, Microsoft Word—I’m composing this offline, in MS Word, and it’s autocorrecting my intentional idiosyncrasies. Can’t mess with it; it’s set for Mom, and she doesn’t understand computers well enough to set the settings back once they’ve been changed. She can be particular…
Achoo.
I have developed a full-blown cold… mm, crusty mucous in throat taste, my favorite—my throat wants to kill me, I’m coughing now, and my nose is jumping in on the deal. It’s wonderful, lemme tell you.
I don’t know where to put my stuff. There’s this storage locker, sure, but it’s so disorganized that I don’t know what to store and what to keep. Plus my room is already full of other people’s stuff. So I have no idea what to do with it all. I moved some crap out last night… but it’s also full of things I should’ve thrown away four years ago, that I have neither looked at nor enjoyed since I moved out. Hm, five years ago. Whatever.
At least some of the packing I did was cleverly organized, so I have a little plastic dresser full of clean underwear and t-shirts. So I don’t have to wear that ratty bra one MORE day, etc.
Unfortunately, I have no idea where my face wash got packed. Sigh.
Well, it’s all my own fault for not being able to organize myself. It’s as was expected.
So my computer’s set up, but not online. It’s me and this modem, baby. Rockin’ the house.
I don’t know where my digital camera got packed either. I have the recharger, but not the camera. Bummer.
I have no idea how I’m going to move myself back into this room. This room, it’s 6’ x 10’ with an 8’ ceiling. It has an occupant: a jade plant of surpassing hugeness that will become mine upon my securing a job and apartment. (Do I want it? Sure, it’s cool. But good heavens. It might eat me in my sleep in the meantime.)
Oh yeah, it turns out that Fiona got home last night about an hour before Ann and I and Dad (I was ruthless, and made Ann drive about 200 miles of the trip home. It was fun. Though she had a magnetic attraction to this one Lexus, and kept trying to get into its lane with it. Much to the annoyance of the cellphone-earpiece-wearing-40something-yuppie woman in it.
Oh like I don’t have enough trouble breathing I just tried to inhale my grape/cranberry juice. Yarr. I rule.
Hack hack.
So, anybody who wants to email me, penguinqu at aol dot com seems to be the way to go. who the hell knows if/when my computer will be online.
annoyingly, all my hotjobs.com and monster.com and etc. info are on the other computer.
I’m just USED to keeping information online. I don’t know what to do!!! smartftp; homesite; mozilla; im; weatherbug; AUGH.
I went to check the weather this morning as I was getting dressed… no dice. so I opened the window and looked out and figured I’d be ok in shorts. of course, there’s supposed to be a violent thunderstorm in about a half-hour…
well. take things as they come, right? So, off I go. Talk to y’alls later. We’ll see how this works, this composing in MS word and then going online thing.
[note: mod-em so slo...o...w... this is purgatory, not new jersey.]
[no, my parents have a beautiful little house that it must be nice for them to live in. beautiful. ... little.]
music: somethingerother from green day’s nimrod stuck in my head
subject: well, my body and all my stuff made it home.
This old keyboard is pretty stiff. I’m used to mine—I hit mine too hard, because it hardly needs the keys touched… this one you really gotta push. Especially the damn space key. soifidon’thavespacesthat’swhy.
Moving was the hell I thought it would be, pretty much—took me 5 hours with dad and ann to get everything into the truck, because it just wasn’t organized.
Like the idiot I knew I’d be, I left the bills for Darius to take care of. He sounded unenthusiastic when I informed him of this over the phone. But he also said he’d do it. He may have been being nice to me, I’m not sure. He’s hard to follow, over the phone. I can see how people in the past have suggested that a phone relationship with him isn’t the most rewarding. Ditto for IM. I’m used to him in person. I can read when he’s pissed at me. It’s not voice tone, or choice of words; it’s his facial expression. Most people are like this, I know, it’s just my most recent encounter with the phenomenon. It just makes me feel emotionally retarded, when I’m talking to someone I know well and haven’t a clue in hell whether they’re sarcastic, amused, annoyed, resigned, or what. What? I don’t know.
I forgot my microwave, and a carpet. Neither is crucial; I have another microwave, apparently.
Today Dad’s taking another day off work to UNload the truck of my stuff. Stoppit, Microsoft Word—I’m composing this offline, in MS Word, and it’s autocorrecting my intentional idiosyncrasies. Can’t mess with it; it’s set for Mom, and she doesn’t understand computers well enough to set the settings back once they’ve been changed. She can be particular…
Achoo.
I have developed a full-blown cold… mm, crusty mucous in throat taste, my favorite—my throat wants to kill me, I’m coughing now, and my nose is jumping in on the deal. It’s wonderful, lemme tell you.
I don’t know where to put my stuff. There’s this storage locker, sure, but it’s so disorganized that I don’t know what to store and what to keep. Plus my room is already full of other people’s stuff. So I have no idea what to do with it all. I moved some crap out last night… but it’s also full of things I should’ve thrown away four years ago, that I have neither looked at nor enjoyed since I moved out. Hm, five years ago. Whatever.
At least some of the packing I did was cleverly organized, so I have a little plastic dresser full of clean underwear and t-shirts. So I don’t have to wear that ratty bra one MORE day, etc.
Unfortunately, I have no idea where my face wash got packed. Sigh.
Well, it’s all my own fault for not being able to organize myself. It’s as was expected.
So my computer’s set up, but not online. It’s me and this modem, baby. Rockin’ the house.
I don’t know where my digital camera got packed either. I have the recharger, but not the camera. Bummer.
I have no idea how I’m going to move myself back into this room. This room, it’s 6’ x 10’ with an 8’ ceiling. It has an occupant: a jade plant of surpassing hugeness that will become mine upon my securing a job and apartment. (Do I want it? Sure, it’s cool. But good heavens. It might eat me in my sleep in the meantime.)
Oh yeah, it turns out that Fiona got home last night about an hour before Ann and I and Dad (I was ruthless, and made Ann drive about 200 miles of the trip home. It was fun. Though she had a magnetic attraction to this one Lexus, and kept trying to get into its lane with it. Much to the annoyance of the cellphone-earpiece-wearing-40something-yuppie woman in it.
Oh like I don’t have enough trouble breathing I just tried to inhale my grape/cranberry juice. Yarr. I rule.
Hack hack.
So, anybody who wants to email me, penguinqu at aol dot com seems to be the way to go. who the hell knows if/when my computer will be online.
annoyingly, all my hotjobs.com and monster.com and etc. info are on the other computer.
I’m just USED to keeping information online. I don’t know what to do!!! smartftp; homesite; mozilla; im; weatherbug; AUGH.
I went to check the weather this morning as I was getting dressed… no dice. so I opened the window and looked out and figured I’d be ok in shorts. of course, there’s supposed to be a violent thunderstorm in about a half-hour…
well. take things as they come, right? So, off I go. Talk to y’alls later. We’ll see how this works, this composing in MS word and then going online thing.
[note: mod-em so slo...o...w... this is purgatory, not new jersey.]
[no, my parents have a beautiful little house that it must be nice for them to live in. beautiful. ... little.]
