I was planning on going to a picnic, but I just sort of fell apart as I was trying to get ready, so I laid down in my bed and decided to just forget about it. I feel bad about this, because I said I was coming and because I don't really think I deserved an invitation in the first place, but I had this massive headache. I don't get headaches much, but in the last week I've had them every day.
My Mom came in to check on me because she remembered my plans. (I wish she didn't, honestly.) And I told her I didn't feel well. My Dad stopped in to tell me he was going out to get some sandwiches for my Mom and her friend (who was visiting) and would I like something. And I asked for one too, in the hopes that some food would make me feel better.
When my Dad came back I went to the kitchen to eat, wearing my sunglasses. I still had a headache and light was really bothering me, and my Mom likes it to be super sunny around the house all the time, which would be fine, except in situations like this. My Mom's friend thought the sunglasses were hilarious. I was too tired to get offended by this or by my Mom's insistence to talk politics, even though I've spent about three years telling her I don't want to hear her uneducated opinions or watch her political shows.
The medication in the house appears to be migratory, because every time I need it (which is once every six months, so, not often), it is somewhere else. So I had to ask. Finally, having found it, my Mom felt my head and thought maybe I had a fever. I hadn't even bothered with thought beyond the basic thoughts of how soon I could go back to bed, which I promptly did.
I'm feeling much better now.
Showing posts with label plans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label plans. Show all posts
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Moving
I had to move my stuff to Virginia's, who was kind enough to take me in after my previous plans fell through. Because I didn't have a car, I had to carry everything myself. It took me seven trips. It was about a fifteen minute trip to walk there, and then fifteen minutes back. And I had to pack inbetween. So, obviously, it took me a long time.
The good news was that I had a couple of suitcases on wheels, so I mostly wheeled stuff back and forth.
There were sort of the normal annoyances with moving. Getting the maximum space in your suitcases, for example. But then, of course, you have to be careful not to pack too much because then you're moving it, and it'll get too heavy.
Virginia gave me a key to her place, and the second time I showed up (after she had left to go practice), I realized it was the wrong key. I had to call her, and she came right over, apologizing a million times to me. But really, I felt bad for having to call her. She was working, and I don't like to interrupt people, even for something important like this.
And after a while I got tired, and cranky. My feet hurt. I was sweaty and gross.
I found myself getting angry about why my original plans fell through. Mostly, it was a principal of the issue, and I vowed, as I heaved stuff to and fro, that I would have a short chat with this person about everything. I tried to keep my anger from bubbling over, and I was certain if I just spoke to this person reasonable and did stuff like say "I feel..." and then filled in the blanks, they would apologize. And if I could have an apology, I'd be fine.
At the end of the day I was exhausted. I skipped dinner because I was too tired. I took a shower at Virginia's, who had showers I wasn't used to. The ground was weirdly sloop like and I got my shower bag, filled with my shampoo and whatnot, wet, because there was nowhere good to put it. But once I got clean I felt better.
Virginia let me sleep in Jane's bed, who is apparently never home anyway because she's always hanging with her boyfriend. Jane's bed might be the best bed I have ever slept in. It has gigantic covers and the mattress is weirdly soft, and everything is warm fleece. I was so tired that I didn't struggle to sleep at all. And it felt so good to lay down.
Later on, Paul asked me why I didn't just ask for help, and I told him that I felt bad about making everyone else responsible for my stuff. I think the easier way would have been now to say I didn't want to be a bother.
The good news was that I had a couple of suitcases on wheels, so I mostly wheeled stuff back and forth.
There were sort of the normal annoyances with moving. Getting the maximum space in your suitcases, for example. But then, of course, you have to be careful not to pack too much because then you're moving it, and it'll get too heavy.
Virginia gave me a key to her place, and the second time I showed up (after she had left to go practice), I realized it was the wrong key. I had to call her, and she came right over, apologizing a million times to me. But really, I felt bad for having to call her. She was working, and I don't like to interrupt people, even for something important like this.
And after a while I got tired, and cranky. My feet hurt. I was sweaty and gross.
I found myself getting angry about why my original plans fell through. Mostly, it was a principal of the issue, and I vowed, as I heaved stuff to and fro, that I would have a short chat with this person about everything. I tried to keep my anger from bubbling over, and I was certain if I just spoke to this person reasonable and did stuff like say "I feel..." and then filled in the blanks, they would apologize. And if I could have an apology, I'd be fine.
At the end of the day I was exhausted. I skipped dinner because I was too tired. I took a shower at Virginia's, who had showers I wasn't used to. The ground was weirdly sloop like and I got my shower bag, filled with my shampoo and whatnot, wet, because there was nowhere good to put it. But once I got clean I felt better.
Virginia let me sleep in Jane's bed, who is apparently never home anyway because she's always hanging with her boyfriend. Jane's bed might be the best bed I have ever slept in. It has gigantic covers and the mattress is weirdly soft, and everything is warm fleece. I was so tired that I didn't struggle to sleep at all. And it felt so good to lay down.
Later on, Paul asked me why I didn't just ask for help, and I told him that I felt bad about making everyone else responsible for my stuff. I think the easier way would have been now to say I didn't want to be a bother.
Monday, March 7, 2011
I am furious at my Dad. He sent me this really condescending email about some plans I am in the process of making.
I realize that part of the problem is that my parents are incapable of communicating with one another, and so, instead of just talking to my Mom, he's emailed me. And because he's all angry at no one consulting him, he's taking it out on me.
I really want to write him a nasty email back; tell him not to bother worrying about it. Or even less nasty email simply stating that I'll answer his emails in full when he talks to me with a little respect.
I realize that part of the problem is that my parents are incapable of communicating with one another, and so, instead of just talking to my Mom, he's emailed me. And because he's all angry at no one consulting him, he's taking it out on me.
I really want to write him a nasty email back; tell him not to bother worrying about it. Or even less nasty email simply stating that I'll answer his emails in full when he talks to me with a little respect.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
All Hallow's Eve
So, planless tonight on All Hallow's Eve, I've decided to enjoy myself anyway. The hell if I'm going to be completely without fun.
But as all my other friends were already out, I found myself struggling for what exactly to do. I don't like drinking alone and I don't like going out to drink alone as I suspect that is asking for attention I don't want. But what?
Scary movies. It's Hallow's Eve, yeah?
I don't ususally think of myself as a horror fan, but recently I was thinking of what I watch, and I realize that I do watch a lot of horror stuff. I think I got into it because I like science fiction and there's a fair amount of crossover. And, in general, I like genre stuff.
Tonight's playlist:
Tony Curran totally sells this episode playing a blind cult leader with mind control powers. (His makeup, especially the eyes, helps too.) Stuart Townsend and Gabrielle Union are their adorable selves.
2. "Lonliest Number" from The Inside.
So many good actors on this show (Adam Baldwin, Katie Finneran, Neslan Ellis, Peter Coyote) makes this short-lived series a good idea just in general. This particular episode is all about suicide, and Danny to be a little more sensative and not just a badass.
3. Possession
A creepy little film about a guy who may or may not have switched bodies with his brother and then is trying to mend things with his wife or sister-in-law. I still haven't decided what was the real story here or not, which I guess is a sign that it does a good job at arguing either answer.
I have a whole night of enjoying myself and being creeped out.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The Great Couch Heist
Sometimes something happens that leaves me very pleased with myself.
My family has gotten a new couch, which means we were looking to throw the other one away. It occurred to me that my beloved Dan would want it for his new apartment (which he sharing with another friend, also named Dan. Suffice to say, I will be calling them The Dans from now on.)
Dan isn't he town, so he sent his Dad to pick up the couch. We waited for him to come in the house, working on various projects. When I went outside and discovered the couch was gone, I was afraid someone else had taken it.
Luckily, Dan's Dad had gotten it, but was apparently too shy to knock on our door. So he asked the neighbors for help.
The best part of this? Dan owes me, apparently. He really doesn't, but I like to take advantage of things. So I told Dan that he just has to let me sleep on that couch when I come up to visit.
I actually don't have any definite plans to come, but I want to because I am missing everyone so much and because all this talk about being back in school makes me feel like I am missing something. So, you know, I'm waiting for an excuse over here, people. Anytime.
I feel like we should give this couch a name. Couchy?
My family has gotten a new couch, which means we were looking to throw the other one away. It occurred to me that my beloved Dan would want it for his new apartment (which he sharing with another friend, also named Dan. Suffice to say, I will be calling them The Dans from now on.)
Dan isn't he town, so he sent his Dad to pick up the couch. We waited for him to come in the house, working on various projects. When I went outside and discovered the couch was gone, I was afraid someone else had taken it.
Luckily, Dan's Dad had gotten it, but was apparently too shy to knock on our door. So he asked the neighbors for help.
The best part of this? Dan owes me, apparently. He really doesn't, but I like to take advantage of things. So I told Dan that he just has to let me sleep on that couch when I come up to visit.
I actually don't have any definite plans to come, but I want to because I am missing everyone so much and because all this talk about being back in school makes me feel like I am missing something. So, you know, I'm waiting for an excuse over here, people. Anytime.
I feel like we should give this couch a name. Couchy?
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Doctor's Visit
I was getting ready this afternoon to go see my Grandma. I was going to be helping my Mom take her to the doctor's. I was having something to eat in the kitchen, when my sister yelled across the house that Tracey was coming.
"Tracey?" What the hell?
Let me explain: Tracey is one of my Mom's friends. I have mixed feelings on her, but it's unusual she would just come to our house without my Mom being home.
Turns out she was there to get me. And, of course, I wasn't ready. Damn. Tracey was coming to get me because the three cars my family owns were either out, or in one case, on reserve for my sister who was going to use one to get herself to class. (She's taking summer classes.)
I was planning on doing a lot more to get ready (like, you know, brushing my hair), but I didn't want to keep Tracey waiting. Seems rude, since she was doing me a favor.
One of the things I hate about riding in cars with people like that is that I always struggle to make conversation. With one of my friends, it's easy, because we can't get enough of each other. Someone like Tracey, a real adult, who is way older than me and has daughters slightly younger than I, is a totally different game. It's not like talking to Kelly, where we can giggle about how stupid certain other students are, or Paul or Tony, where I can talk to those two about anything.
I went with talking about MSU, since her younger daughter is starting there in the fall. I told her about how much I liked the floor right above where she would be living.
Tracey talked to me about something I had heard of but haven't really looked into much. Her eldest daughter is at U of M, and she was complaining that there were all sort of hard drugs there. Mandy had discussed it to me, but I was never sure how widespread it was. I have friends at or who were once at U of M, and none of them ever talked about it. Of course, they're very hard working, straight-laced people. It's hard to imagine them doing blow off a frat boy's stomach.
The good news is, Tracey thinks that MSU is actually not much of a party school. Truth.
So we took my Grandma to the doctor's. It was mostly fine, but my Grandma was being more annoying than normal. My Grandma kept asking where we were going and why. She really hates going to the doctor. I don't know why. Worst thing that happens is that she gets her arm squeezed when they measure her blood pressure.
I judge waiting rooms by the magazines they have. I'm looking for something good, like Time, Newsweek, National Geographic, Wired. There are lots of other magazines I like to read, but I'm lucky if a waiting room has the first two, let alone something like Mother Jones or The Economist. Best I could find at this waiting room was Elle. Ugh. I'll take it.
"Tracey?" What the hell?
Let me explain: Tracey is one of my Mom's friends. I have mixed feelings on her, but it's unusual she would just come to our house without my Mom being home.
Turns out she was there to get me. And, of course, I wasn't ready. Damn. Tracey was coming to get me because the three cars my family owns were either out, or in one case, on reserve for my sister who was going to use one to get herself to class. (She's taking summer classes.)
I was planning on doing a lot more to get ready (like, you know, brushing my hair), but I didn't want to keep Tracey waiting. Seems rude, since she was doing me a favor.
One of the things I hate about riding in cars with people like that is that I always struggle to make conversation. With one of my friends, it's easy, because we can't get enough of each other. Someone like Tracey, a real adult, who is way older than me and has daughters slightly younger than I, is a totally different game. It's not like talking to Kelly, where we can giggle about how stupid certain other students are, or Paul or Tony, where I can talk to those two about anything.
I went with talking about MSU, since her younger daughter is starting there in the fall. I told her about how much I liked the floor right above where she would be living.
Tracey talked to me about something I had heard of but haven't really looked into much. Her eldest daughter is at U of M, and she was complaining that there were all sort of hard drugs there. Mandy had discussed it to me, but I was never sure how widespread it was. I have friends at or who were once at U of M, and none of them ever talked about it. Of course, they're very hard working, straight-laced people. It's hard to imagine them doing blow off a frat boy's stomach.
The good news is, Tracey thinks that MSU is actually not much of a party school. Truth.
So we took my Grandma to the doctor's. It was mostly fine, but my Grandma was being more annoying than normal. My Grandma kept asking where we were going and why. She really hates going to the doctor. I don't know why. Worst thing that happens is that she gets her arm squeezed when they measure her blood pressure.
I judge waiting rooms by the magazines they have. I'm looking for something good, like Time, Newsweek, National Geographic, Wired. There are lots of other magazines I like to read, but I'm lucky if a waiting room has the first two, let alone something like Mother Jones or The Economist. Best I could find at this waiting room was Elle. Ugh. I'll take it.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Nevermind
Took the afternoon off today to sit outside and read. Mostly, it was fine, but I wasn't out there as long as I initially planned. It was too cold. For at least a week now, I've been eyeing up a bit of grass under some nice trees, thinking I could enjoy myself after my papers were all done. Best laid plans, huh?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)