Sunday, March 08, 2009

Batten down the hatches

I wasn't able to post on Thursday or Friday due to frantic 12-hour days at work that were followed by rushed dinners and restless nights during which I actually dreamed of financial reports like the ones I've been dealing with for the last week at my job. Nightmares about spreadsheets and accountants are not the norm for me, so I'm definitely doing something wrong.

"Ur doin' it wrong." I love that, when you're looking at one of those LOLcats-type sites and it says something like "Bird watchin -- ur doin it wrong," next to a photo of a child with a bird on his head holding binoculars up to his eyes.

What I'm doin' wrong is failing to relax and realize this is just a job and if I cannot get it done in the time allotted, that is not my fault. If I were on, there would be a photo of me not relaxing at work and it would say FAIL in red letters across my dumb face.

Or maybe I should be on icanhascheezburger and it would be a picture of me ignoring a phone call and the caption would be: "Likin' people: Ur doin it wrong."

It's sort of a joke between my husband and I (and some close friends who I actually do like) that I don't like anyone. When I meet someone, I presume they are guilty and they must therefore prove their innocence, ie, they must prove to me that they are not so excessively annoying that I will make up excuses not to hang out with them. Some people who seem annoying at first end up proving themselves quite entertaining, actually. One of my best friends, Jacq, seemed extraordinarily annoying when I first met her, but to date she is one of the most genuine and wonderful people I've ever had the privilege of calling my friend.

I know my whole guilty-before-proven-innocent quirk sounds like a really nasty personality flaw, but I actually do have lots of friends who I actually like and who I believe like me (they are probably all having meetings behind my back about what an awful shrew I am) and when I meet the new "guilty" people I am always friendly and act as though I am giving them the benefit of the doubt even though I am most certainly not doing that and am actually being what I like to call Judgey Judgerson (Christina will be familiar with this slice of my personality) by judging their every comment and movement. And their clothing, makeup, shoes, manicure, and breath smell. I can't help it.

So anyway, I am not sure where I was going with that.

This weekend we went to our friends' apartment-warming party (they each long ago passed the Judgey Judgerson test, although some of their party guests have not) and Hubs became extremely inebriated on gin and tonics. It's something he will occasionally do when he forgets how miserable he was the previous time he drank too much and climbed a tree or set a plastic rooster on fire. One of these days I will remember to video tape him speaking while extremely drunk because it's simply the funniest thing I've ever heard. The stumbled slurring of his words just kills me. Ahhh. I am a loving wife. Anyway I got him home without incident and tucked him in on the couch (attempting to get him into bed when he's that drunk is a futile effort). Around 4 a.m. he went a-hunting for aspirin and finally came to bed. The hangover nursing has been an all day affair.

And if you're wondering about the photo above, that is Beau, our friend Christie's cat. We are cat-sitting and getting her mail for her. He's such a good cat, he's almost a dog.

Forgive me if I don't blog tomorrow as I've got another looming deadline...


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