About two weeks ago or so, I made the mistake of looking at my site stats, just to see who may or may not be reading this site. And then I got disgusted and stopped writing. Because ok. If I am not writing to an audience, then why the hell put this shit on the internet, anyway? If I’m the only one reading this crap, then I might as well not broadcast it to the world, you know? So, I stopped.
I do know there are a few who do still read, maybe 3 or 4 or even 5 or 6. To you I say, I won’t drop completely off the face of the earth. But please, if you’re in the habit of holding your breath between posts from the old Caitlinator, I recommend you don’t.
The general update: I’m fucking tired. The last five days have beat my ass into, well, Wednesday. Tonight is the first time since last Thursday that I have been able to do absolutely nothing if it so pleased me. And, by the way, it did. I got in my annual viewing of Rudy tonight, which is a tradition in the life of me. Football season can really start now.
Classes are going ok. I’m taking two classes, history of photography and intro to painting. I may have mentioned this. Sue me. My memory fades with my energy.
Today’s class centered around landscape photography and I correctly deduced that one of the differences between rail travel and road travel is that when you ride on the train, there are other people with you and when you drive a car, you can be alone. I am fucking BRILLIANT.
I also picked out the Ansel Adams photo from the one that wasn’t. I even correctly guessed the date, which astounded everyone, even Ansel Adams from his grave.
I am trying to like painting, but the truth is, I don’t. It is messy and time consuming and I’d much rather draw. Or sculpt. Or knit. Yes, knitting is fun. I haven’t knit anything since I made those 3,000 dolls for my wedding. Or was it 100? I don’t remember, there were so many.
Work is going well. They have pushed back the announcement date for layoffs, so I’ve bought myself another six weeks or so stay of execution. I’m waiting to see how many more bills I can pay off in six weeks, but it’s not looking too good. Especially since I keep spending my money on travel books for Belize and beer and burgers at the Blue Room.
I’ve actually had some opportunity to visit with some friends I haven’t seen in a while, so it hasn’t all been work and errands and chores for me. I’m so happy for my friends in the Bronx, recently engaged and entirely adorable. They cooked Billy and me an incredible meal that involved chicken, bacon, and cheese, and if that doesn’t show true love then I don’t know what does. Last night I hung out with a friend from my very first internship in college that I haven’t seen in nearly a year and I am so excited because she is possibly falling in love with a Londoner. And although they have only spent four days together in the last nine months of knowing each other, I really believe they have a chance. It’s the romantic in me, what can I say?
I have not seen my husband in days. These are the consequences of being a superstar. And I’m not saying that the superstar is me, either. For the record.
Tonight I ordered a pizza instead of cleaning the kitchen or going food shopping. I did this because my throat was hurting and I decided ordering pizza was better than possibly having tonsillitis again. This is how it started last time, and I do not ever want to feel that sort of pain again.
The bedroom project is still on hold. All the supplies are sitting in a nice neat pile in the corner of the bedroom, taunting me as I turn out the lights to go to sleep. I hear them sometimes, calling me in my sleep, “Paint me!” “Hang me!” in their squeaky barely audible voices. And I just say, “Shut the hell up or I’ll bring you back.” That usually shuts them up.
We’re actually hoping to get some painting done this weekend, and not just for my painting class, either. I have two whole days off in a row where I don’t have to write any papers or do any research or run any races in 99% humidity. So I figure I will paint the damn walls before the paint dries up in the can. And before Billy throws the full paint cans at my head in frustration.
And that, lovelies, is the update. Hope that tides you over till next time I actually have a few minutes with nothing else to do. Which will probably be sometime in early November, I imagine.