Voice Mail Archives

I woke up this morning drenched in sweat, and although the dream I was having was a good one, it wasn't that great, if you know what I mean. Matt had already left for a big nasty Saturday full of meetings at work (somebody's got to do it, I guess), so I stumbled out of bed feeling hungover and strung out (I was neither, for the record) scrambled to the sink for a glass of cool tap water (thank ya Jesus) and creaked over to the thermostat to see just how hot it was in here.

The switch to/from Daylight Savings Time this past week has kind of thrown me for a loop this time around, probably because I'm going through a particularly virulent period of insomnia that has been keeping me up all night. As a freelancer, I can work whenever, so this hasn't really gotten in the way of getting work done, but it does mean that I've been sleeping so late this week that it feels like I get to see the sun for about 45 minutes each day.

When I was a kid, we went on a lot of road trips as a family.

I have a really beautiful and rather extensive personal collection of rocks and minerals on the mantel over the fireplace, and I very rarely ever look at it, except when I'm dusting, which happens approximately never. I have tiny samples of about 75 minerals, most of the basic rock types (granite, schist, basalt, limestone, etc.) and some pretty nifty fossils, too. I also have a top-notch pair of hiking boots that are now several years old, but I hardly ever scale mountains or hills in them, either.

What about that lunar eclipse last night, huh? If you were in a part of the world that didn't see it, or had to go to bed early, the moon literally turned red. Which explains other, seemingly inexplicable events of last night around these parts.

I'm sure I'm giving away too many secrets now, but I just found approximately 380 tons of crap under my bed during an unusual spate of semi-annual housecleaning. Although I generally keep the house reasonably tidy (at least the parts strangers see) I always, routinely, whether it needs it or not, do the whole "move the bed to the other side of the room and excavate" about every, oh, let's see... how long have I lived here now? Let's call it three years.

The big huge drama in life right now is that apparently the passport agency can't process the idea that a man would change his name upon marrying just like millions of women do every day.

When I was in college, I earned a solid reputation for losing, misplacing, or simply repelling my possessions. In general, I have a cavalier attitude toward material objects. I usually like to imagine this is a laudable embrace of the Buddhist ideal of being unattached to the material plane, but most of my friends have just regarded it as a charming quirk of personality. There are those who think it's a character flaw, but I don't talk to those people anymore.

We returned from our trip to Syracuse today, and we're both pretty strung out from the endless succession of friends, family, and antagonistes that we encountered over the course of the weekend. Though the weekend was most enjoyable and involved lots of socializing with dazzling urbanites, I am most pleased to be home with my cats.

So we're off to the big city tomorry, uyuh. I've been telling everyone I'm going to New York, which is true, but I'm allowing them to believe I mean New York City, which is not true. We're going back to the ol' Salt City, Syracuse, hometown of my darling spousal unit.