Sea change

Today is Monday, so I'm rather surprised to find myself in a better mood than I was yesterday.  Granted, I did not have to do laundry all day, but I did have to deal with needy customers, entitled attorneys and slightly grumpy co-workers.

Still, I got awesome pens for everyone for 60¢ each, wore a kickass outfit, had a carrot cake cupcake for breakfast and didn't make any egregious errors.  Plus, I was reminded that my presence at Friday night's after-work drinks party was appreciated, and I reminded myself that on Saturday, I by-golly started and finished Mom's payroll taxes in 3.5 hours.

And then I came home and there was a sweetly supportive comment on a blog entry that made me A. smile and B. resolve to get someone's birthday pressie mailed ASAP.

Some days I wish I were a dog

Little Miss Piggie Pie is sleeping on the floor by my chair, blissfully ignorant of the nasty things called "consequences" which have plagued me all day.  It's not that they don't apply to her, just that she doesn't think that far ahead.

Ignore your laundry for two weeks, get a Horta on the basement floor (image courtesy of Mallie)
Smoke for 35 years, have lung issues.
Quit smoking, gain 11 pounds.
Sleep on an 18 year old mattress, have a sore back.

Nothing horrible, nothing earth-shaking, just irritating, especially because it's my own fricking fault.

Car stuff!

1958 Volvo PV544 with my dad in the driver's seat.

In Dad's own words:

In spring of 1963 this Little marvel of Swedish engineering agreed to take me across the plains and deserts of Rt. 66 to the Mojave Desert. It never failed me, although it sacrificed portions of its valves and piston rings to get me there. Long May it Run.

I have my oil change appointment tomorrow morning at 8:42 (yes, they're that precise).

In other car stuff, to the owner(s) of the nice house in the spottily-gentrified area of Akron I drive through on my way to and from work, your BEWARE of dog signs only work as long as people don't see your two little terriers in the yard being all adorbs.  Hyperbole aside, cuteness is not a killing weapon.

To the dude with the Star Trek personalized message on a Superman license plate, I am really impressed at your mingling of fandoms and a little bummed that you're probably married.

To the person with the plate 8U4DNR, why would you hate someone for choosing a Do Not Resuscitate order?  That's very selfish.

To the person with the plate N8FKIN, whose next of kin and why does it matter?

Bits and pieces

My adorable dog is hard on toys, so I buy inexpensive ones with no faces.  This is what she does to them:

So on Sunday night, I went in with the big trash can and cleaned up all the bits of stuffing and other debris while LMPP made pathetic noises which I translated as "I'm not done with that" and "That one's still good, really!"

When I got out of the shower, she was lying in the hall on top of two unshredded toys, nibbling on a third.  Nobody is going to get Smaugette's hoard now!

Work is interesting right now.  We've had a streak of people doing really dumb things, like forgetting to mail in paperwork, etc.  There is also lots of work going on as the front counter area gets renovated.  Most of the work is being done at night, but today maintenance was taking apart half of our file storage shelves and moving the other half.

Power tools on metal shelving made our court sound as if we should be answering the phones "Stormer's Tire and Lube, how may I help you?"

Yesterday was Call Day, so that's over for the month and we have Monday off, so I'm getting an oil change.  For the first time since I bought Edgar, I am truly angry with Ford.  The coolant light was on, so I bought universal coolant and then couldn't get any in the car because the fill opening was under the rigid part of the hood.  I wound up using a kitchen funnel held at an extreme angle and my hand braced around it to catch any spills, all at 7 p.m. in my unheated garage.  But the light went off today, so victory for me!

This post brought to you by the letter W, for whining...

because all I can think of this a clip from Murphy Brown in which Candice Bergen, with the help of her castmates, sings the following song to a cigarette:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etObzeLEjDM&list=PL3067A5A3AAE31596&index=9

I have had one cigarette in the last week, and a very expensive boatload of nicotine gum and lozenges.  It has made me worry about how self-destructive I am, because even when I can feel that my lungs need me to quit, I still want to smoke.  I've gained seven pounds, and I know it's just a matter of keeping on, but damn, it's hard.  My boss and my mom are being super-supportive on a daily basis, and I know that my friends are there for me.  One pssstinking* day at a time.

*neologism courtesy of Smoke and Mirrors by Tanya Huff, a true 5-star book and one of my comfort reads.