But honestly, I'm too lazy to say anything important. Except to say that the Bum Shoulder of Doom that I've been suffering from lo these past two years is rearing its ugly head lately, and I have been unable to even sleep through the night without waking up in searing agony in my left shoulder because I dared to fall asleep with my left arm extended slightly above my head. Man, I miss being able to sleep on my left side. It's the little things, you know? Anyway, I did some more research with Mister Google last night and have come to the conclusion that I have a torn rotator cuff. Perhaps it is time to take advantage of the ol' work health insurance plan and have a professional look at it again. And hopefully, this time, he won't just tell me to "take some Ibuprofen and then just stop whatever you're doing whenever it starts hurting." Yes, I am still bitter about that.
Also, my mummy got us a new sleeper-sofa-futon-hybrid this past weekend! It is very hip and covered in microsuede which Bela loves to randomly lick for no reason and leave weird wet spots on.
Also also, my birthday, as I'm sure you are all aware, is in five days. At that point, I will be a mere two years away from...thirty. The only thing that will make me feel better about all of this is a giant suitcase full of cash with which I can unburden my sorrows at the neighborhood Target and Star*ucks. So, email me if you need my shipping address.
***
UPDATE: Oh my God, and I have to tell you about our idiotic weirdo neighbor across the hall who spilled milk all over our communal hallway and decided he would take care of it by putting three (yes, three) squares of paper towels over the carpet and then just letting it sit there. Needless to say, Seattle actually saw some pretty hot weather and sunshine this last weekend, resulting in our entire building smelling on day one, like a pile of wet laundry that had been sitting out for three days; day two, like spoiled yogurt; day three, like rotting kitchen garbage; and then day four, like a pile of dead bodies wearing moldy clothes dipped in spoiled yogurt and rolled around in month-old kitchen garbage. I'm not kidding. Pretty much our entire building - I imagine - started calling up our leasing office to figure out what the horrible smell was (since nobody knew at that point) and when our leasing manager came by, she was so freaked out that she started knocking on everyone's doors and opening up the units to make sure that nobody had died in one of the apartments. It was that bad.
Anyway, after having the carpets in the hall cleaned, the funk is still there. Schmoobins and I ordered a pizza on Friday night and, after I made the order, I asked the person on the other line, "Hey, can I leave a message for the driver?" And he goes, "Um...sure?" So I said, "Tell him that I apologize ahead of time. Our building smells like dead bodies. I'm not kidding." And I imagine that he and his buddies probably laughed it off and were like, "That was weird." Yeah, except when your poor driver came to our door with this crazed look in his eyes and I was like, "Oh my God! Did you get the message? I'm so sorry! It's our stupid neighbor!!" and he was all, "Ah, yeah, I got the message! It's alright! It's not too bad!" But then he got so flustered by the Funk of Death that he kept dropping the receipt copy and his pen and he almost dropped the pizza right there on the floor and made a mad dash for the exit about .2 seconds after I signed the receipt.
Also, my mummy got us a new sleeper-sofa-futon-hybrid this past weekend! It is very hip and covered in microsuede which Bela loves to randomly lick for no reason and leave weird wet spots on.
Also also, my birthday, as I'm sure you are all aware, is in five days. At that point, I will be a mere two years away from...thirty. The only thing that will make me feel better about all of this is a giant suitcase full of cash with which I can unburden my sorrows at the neighborhood Target and Star*ucks. So, email me if you need my shipping address.
***
UPDATE: Oh my God, and I have to tell you about our idiotic weirdo neighbor across the hall who spilled milk all over our communal hallway and decided he would take care of it by putting three (yes, three) squares of paper towels over the carpet and then just letting it sit there. Needless to say, Seattle actually saw some pretty hot weather and sunshine this last weekend, resulting in our entire building smelling on day one, like a pile of wet laundry that had been sitting out for three days; day two, like spoiled yogurt; day three, like rotting kitchen garbage; and then day four, like a pile of dead bodies wearing moldy clothes dipped in spoiled yogurt and rolled around in month-old kitchen garbage. I'm not kidding. Pretty much our entire building - I imagine - started calling up our leasing office to figure out what the horrible smell was (since nobody knew at that point) and when our leasing manager came by, she was so freaked out that she started knocking on everyone's doors and opening up the units to make sure that nobody had died in one of the apartments. It was that bad.
Anyway, after having the carpets in the hall cleaned, the funk is still there. Schmoobins and I ordered a pizza on Friday night and, after I made the order, I asked the person on the other line, "Hey, can I leave a message for the driver?" And he goes, "Um...sure?" So I said, "Tell him that I apologize ahead of time. Our building smells like dead bodies. I'm not kidding." And I imagine that he and his buddies probably laughed it off and were like, "That was weird." Yeah, except when your poor driver came to our door with this crazed look in his eyes and I was like, "Oh my God! Did you get the message? I'm so sorry! It's our stupid neighbor!!" and he was all, "Ah, yeah, I got the message! It's alright! It's not too bad!" But then he got so flustered by the Funk of Death that he kept dropping the receipt copy and his pen and he almost dropped the pizza right there on the floor and made a mad dash for the exit about .2 seconds after I signed the receipt.
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