You are currently browsing the daily archive for May 26, 2005.

It’s hot. So hot that I need to get this laptop off my lap so it will stop venting hot air at me. Sheesh. Who came up with a laptop that heats up your lap?? (Kindly forget how I loved this feature when it was cold out.)

Today, I was getting dressed (for work – I get dressed approximately 3 times per day) and I thought to myself, “Self, today you’re going to find the ugliest piece of clothing in your entire wardrobe and put it on.” And I did! It was so ugly it involved digging through the “I never wear this but can’t throw it away” box. And then I wore it to work!

At my job, there are the people who wear shorts year round. And there are the people who wear them occasionally when it’s nice out. And there are the people like me (and a few others) who groan on hot days and reluctantly show our glowing white legs to the world. And it’s not so much the white legs as the shorts – legs – white socks – black shoes look. Such the classic look.

PS I cheated and wore not-black shoes. Because I couldn’t handle it. But black shoes are regulation. If you wear pants, the socks have to be black. Shorts are worn with white socks.

This morning I woke up from a dream feeling like a little stone. You know the good old “if you have a pillow, replace it with a stone”? Not necessary. I make my own stone. My shoulder hurt from being pressed into the mattress. It was as though someone said “do an interpretive dance of being a stone” and my interpretation was to go to sleep like that. Also, I slept without a blanket. Just a sheet. Do you know what extremes it takes for me to do that? Summer Weather. Not summer, because there is no consistency in it, but Summer Weather. And I slept through the night without waking up and frantically pulling on my comforter. Maybe that accounts for the stony insensibility.

In other news, the weekend is rapidly approaching. That means that for the first time since September, Laurel, Lis, Toni & I will be in the same place at the same time. (Do we have a name, girls? I was going to call us the B-22 Cult but that’s Bif, too. And we had Maren we lived together.) That same place will be the Meet & Greet section of the Portland Airport, where TnE and I will attempt to recognize Laurel and speculate on how she might have changed over the past 8-9 months. As in, “Maybe that’s Laurel. If she had a baby and dyed her hair.” Or, “Maybe that’s her. If she got a mysterious disease that aged her forty years.” You know, the usual.

I’m trying to muster some thoughtful, friendshippy words, but all it basically comes down to is that I can’t wait to have us all together, and to do our thing. I’m not very eloquent at the moment, but I love them more than gold or silver.

[I interrupt this programming for a newsflash: I just discovered a rather large smear of butter on my arm. I have no idea how it got there. I haven’t been near any butter. Katy, have you been laying butter traps again?]

-jessmonster, cult member

May 2005

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