Have I Mentioned I Have Allergies?

There will be no day-5 mosaic update today. I first canceled on Wikus for the gem and mineral show, and I so wanted really wanted to go. Then I became one with the couch and let The Boy take care of me. Though, he is now really sad because I ate all the crackers, but possibly misunderstanding what he meant when he said I could have some of the crackers that came with the soup. I took "some" to mean "all." We then watched the first 3 episodes of season 2 of Dexter. I'm really trying hard to enjoy Dexter, but that voice over constantly bopping me over the head with exposition makes me wince and say bad words. Or at least fling copies amounts of snot at the TV. The Boy seems to enjoy it well enough, so I do it for him. But if that character narrates one more "feeling" instead of just letting the scene play out so my wee little brain can actually observe what he's feeling, I'm just going to slit my wrists. That way The Boy can still watch it, and I won't have to. It seems the most logical thing to do.

Then I tried to read "What is the What," which I totally recognize as a good book with an important story to tell, but I'm just having the worst time wanting to read it. It's fine enough writing, it is a compelling story, but I just don't think about it when I'm not actually reading it. And I'm a COMPULSIVE reader. Yet, with this book, I'm totally willing to work through lunch, and watch tv instead of reading before bed. It is terrible, and I don't know what the problem is. After a few pages, I went to sleep in my fucking opulent bed. I am way more interested in this bed than I am reading. A super nice mattress, 600-thread-count sheets and a new down comforter makes for a soft heavenly bed. Even The Boy, who was skeptical about getting this particular mattress, is loving it. He doesn't like spending time in bed unless it is for something other than sleeping. The secret it seems to get The Boy to understand something truly awesome, is to just let him experience it for himself.

Reading obviously led to me falling asleep. Our very nice, yet crazy, neighbor was mowing our yard (the deal is he mows our yard if he is allowed to borrow our mower to mow his lawn--I had nothing to do with this deal, because I'm not comfortable with that sort of thing, but he insisted and The Boy agreed). There's a lawn mower going on outside and I fall asleep. This is basically unheard of. I don't like noise when I'm sleeping. Nor do I like light. I want to sleep all the time, but conditions are rarely optimal. I slept probably for a good 2 hours. The Boy had a shorter nap next to me, and oh, how I felt like shit, but it was easy to forget in the bed that is made of all that is good like kittens and puppies.

The rest of my evening have been spent here on the couch with the orange lover. There is no way I can even step foot in that garage. Not today. I'm so upset about it, I'm on a roll, and my body is forcing me to stay away. Stupid fucking body. Always fighting itself. Getting confused and thinks it is under attack by molds, juniper and dust, so it has to defend itself by trying to kill me. How can I be saddled with such a stupid, fucking moronic body?

I'm more than thrilled to spend the week at work where there will be dust stirred up as 3/4ths of the floor packs up to move. Maybe I should just remove my eyes now, blow up my nose and tear out my lungs. This should be good preventative measures. Or I could watch more Dexter and see which gets me to kill myself first.

Bets?

One Hell of a Mess in the Bed

The allergies are taking one hell of a toll on my body. I slept past 11am today, which even for me is a bit late. It took awhile for a plan to be made, but it ended up being IHOP, fetching Wikus, going to Ikea, taking Wikus to the FedEx office by the airport (to pick up foam of all things), then home for me to mosaic and the boys to work on soldering effect pedals. They finally got a pedal to work, just in time to leave for the Built to Spill/Dinosaur Jr show. I absolutely dislike Built to Spill, and I saw Dinosaur Jr at a day show a couple years ago during SXSW, and just don't really feel the compulsion to repeat the experience. It was nice to just keep mosaicing until I couldn't physically do any more.

Day four: still listening to a mix of The Magnetic Fields, 4.5 hours of work




Initially, we went to Ikea to get a new feather comforter. Mine is quite old, and the orange lover had peed on it several times. It doesn't really smell like cat pee any more, but it smells mildewy, and has a strange greasy feeling to it. It was a bit overwhelming to figure out what I wanted at Ikea since they had so many different options of feather blankets. I settled on a true feather one (not synthetic) that had a warmth level of 4 (levels are 1-6). On our way out we went through the light section. I love light pretty much for the same reason I love glass. I just can't get enough of it. However, most of Ikea's light don't cast enough to make it worth buying. Then I came across this little guy:




It's a very direct spot light on an awesome bendable stand. It's not flimsy at all, and stays exactly where I want it. Since I mosaic in the garage, I have the crappiest light for what I'm doing. I've been compromising on different light sources to accomplish my work, including using a flashlight to do back-lighting. This lamp makes it so I can at least shine a pinpoint of light directly on the area I am working on, and that made life just a little easier. It cost $30, but it was well worth it.

When we got home, The Boy went straight to the bedroom to drop off a body pillow he had purchased (he loves body pillows, to the point I call them his "girlfriends"). He soundly howls out for me to get to the bedroom, not in the way that made me fear a cat was dead, but in the way that let me know that it was something gross. Wikus was trying to get the orange lover back in the house, and I dropped everything in my hands since The Boy obviously didn't think I was running fast enough to the bedroom

As soon as I got to the doorway, the smell hit me. Sour baby poos. Evil-smelling poos. Poos that could only mean one thing, there was diarrhea somewhere in that room.

Remember how I went on about the wonderful new mattress we had purchased and the fancy sheets? Well, they were covered in diabetic-cat diarrhea. It was so awful. We were quick to blame each other for leaving Whoopis in the room all day, but I know it was The Boy. He was the last one in the room. He was still getting dressed way after me. He doesn't want to accept that it is his fault, but it totally is. I forgive him though, because he's the one who scraped the liquid poos in to the toilet and washed the sheets. I cleaned the mattress then Febreezed the fuck out of it.

Tonight I get to sleep on clean sheets and under a new comforter. It isn't a terrible way to end a hard day.