Pancake falsehood

Ah, the nonsensical shoutout entry title. How the mighty have fallen.

Though, I was never mighty, so it was probably a short fall and I am now only slightly bruised and really not all that bothered at all.

I am sitting in an office (Or ‘the office’ depending on who you are speaking to. To me it is an office, or their office) in Ft. Lauderdale drinking green tea a languid gulp at a time (Little known fact: Brianna is an excruciatingly slow eater and drinker.) and wishing I weren’t sitting directly under an air conditioning vent. A few summer thunderstorms are glomphing by out the window spitting lighting some miles away, and that always relaxes me.

What I should be doing: working on my resume. It is currently geared towards hospitality, and now it needs to be geared towards secretarial/etc, and…I’m sort of at a loss. I think I need a gigantic fancy coffee and an emptier mind. That is a horrible excuse, I know, but I’m also thinking to myself ‘I need to replace my social security card before I can be hired, anyhow, so spending a Monday in a foggy-headed way yawning and drinking the green tea and sneaking peeks at the Boyfriend being industrious is totally ok’ and that pushes the guilt into the little coat closet in my head reserved for sticky grey thoughts.

What I actually am doing: dreaming about opening a dress shop. Now. I do not know how to sew and do not know if I would enjoy it if I did and also know it is time consuming and the return on investment is very small. But, see, I found this site. Run by a very witty person who posts lovely vintage dress patterns and things and off my mind goes, deciding to purchase patterns in the public domain and sew dresses from them in cunning fabrics and sell them in a little shop along with hand-woven silk pillow-tops, yarn, and big simple knits! Perhaps a touch of chocolate somewhere, too! This is very impractical, because of the aforementioned ‘not knowing how to sew’ and also things like renting shop space, not knowing how to run a business and the initial cost of lots of fabric…(but then I’d have lots of fabric, which is sort of also a plus but also terribly impractical because then where would I put it?)

I’m dumb.

So, since I was last here, I visited the Bahamas (lovely time. Interesting country. The wearing of skirts!), LA (stressful), had an Incident involving the Law (I was the victim, not the perpetrator), developed the need for another job, and went to the Everglades. oh! I also turned the heel on my Easter Egg Colors socks, and am now slowly knitting up the leg. Soon I will be able to order the fabulous cashmere blend yarn for socks for The Boy (I really need to find another title for this, I think. Hm.), which I hope will go quickly because a) if anyone deserves fabulous socks, it’s he and b) I LOVE knitting with cashmere.

Did I say I’d stopped biting my nails and now they’re all clicky? All is good on the nail front. they are still clicky. I have resisted temptation thusfar, though it was interesting re-learning how my fingers and the keys meshed when I type because the nails adds a whole new texture and dimension to the experience I hadn’t counted on.

Am I dumb for stressing about things various people deal with all the time? Apartment and job hunting aren’t exactly novel and unusual stressors, but for some reason each (and especially the combination) gives me the most terrible headache/stomach cramping deal imaginable. Which in turn makes me feel guilty because it isn’t exactly like I need to teach myself how to remove an appendix in a life or death situation. I’m sure I will get over it. (Well, I’ll have to, or I’ll end up typing Emo blog entries from the back of my car after begging for food all day, and that would suck earwigs)

i have used the backspace key today more than is called for. It seems I’m mistyping every third word, and that is very sad. I fear to see the red squiggly lines when I put this into a spellchecker!

Boyfriend Report: I know he occasionally reads this, so he can either read and go all privately-gloaty (or what have you. Private-gloaty is my personal ‘reads nice things about myself’ emotion) or be like ‘B! You wrote about me again!’. Anyhow. When I type I go ‘click clickclick click’ and when he types it’s more ‘bada bada thump bada thump bada badabada clack thump’. When he’s working (though, admittedly, this is the first time I’ve watched him work-work) he pauses to think and messes up his hair which remains all akimbo in a very endearing manner. He remembers both my carbonated beverage preference and my specific mixed drink preference and is the first person I’ve had sips of beer for unresentfully. I let him touch my eyes without wincing or shying away and he often comes over for no reason to kiss the top of my head. Which I love, obviously. I’m sure that’s enough sap for now, but is by no means all of it.

Bottled water is very odd. I like mine just a step down from very cold, but some stuff has a very strange ‘soft’ taste no matter how cold it is…it can be cold, yet to my tongue it ‘tastes’ lukewarm. I hate that. I find gas station Evian to be the worst, and usually find Dasani to be just about right. But then again, I buy cheap water (though some say paying any amount of money for water is ‘too expensive’ and I used to agree with those some. Or whatever would be grammatically correct).

Funny. I thought I had nothing here, but in fact, I had a lot to say about that nothing.