I've been trapped in my house for the most of the week and I've just about had it. I caught this lovely respiratory infection from Slyvie, who, when told by her doctor that she had a "strep infection" didn't quite pick up the "you're also severely contagious" part, and so there I was sitting right next to her, singing karaoke and eating sushi with her, and lo, here I am, hacking up my lungs all week. It sort of hit me Tuesday but really hit Wednesday, but now I've been hanging around my house for nearly three days and am bored out of my ever-loving mind. I've watched all the tv I can watch, which isn't really that much, I watched my netflix movie, finished my book (very good, recommended, especially for bloggers, because I think we all aspire to write like this guy, though most of us didn't have to raise our little brothers or went to high school with Vince Vaughn and so lack the necessary context for such witty discourse), I've futzed around with the new camera, but since I can't really travel outside and my concentration is at unusual lows, I'm more or less waiting til the weekend to really take it out for a test drive, and I'm screwing up my bookkeeping exercises -- yes, I'm trying to teach myself bookkeeping, which is actually a lot harder than one would think, especially when your mind is muddy and you tally columns incorrectly so many times you think the book must be wrong until you finally figure out you missed an expense half-way down, thirty minutes later -- so, I think that's enough of that for now.
I really just want to go outside and talk to somebody. You'd think I've been stuck in my house for three years and not three days, but really, I can't take it, especially because I'm feeling better and will surely be going to work tomorrow (and am almost excited for it...no joke, I nearly went in at 5 pm just to GO somewhere). I could probably walk to the store or something, but I sort of feel like I need some kind of purpose or something. I don't need any groceries. My dry cleaning is done. I shouldn't be drinking, so no need for beer. My friends all made plans during work and, also, probably don't want to be hanging around me just yet, understandably. I did actually cancel dinner plans (for the second time this week) for that reason.
I did hang out in the back yard and read for awhile, which was nice. Turns out my roommates room leading to the backyard is a bigger obstacle than I hoped it would be. Good thing: she spends most of her time in her room, which is not the living room, which is where I usually am, but bad thing: she spends most of the time in her room, which means I have to disturb her if I want outside. I also discovered she leaves her radio on all day, and I wonder if that's the reason our electricity bill is still so high. She also has about 3000 coffee mugs stacked upon stacks in the cabinet, and the other day when I asked if she could please get rid of some of them because 1) I reserved a good deal of mine for this reason and 2) no two people need 3000 coffee mugs, she started getting into this logistical argument with me about where she'd put them and maybe we could move the tupperware because it's too high for her (but not for me, and I like it there) and how she didn't want to find the box where her other unused dishes were and on and on until I had to stop her and say, "Listen, it's not my problem, just get them out the fucking cabinet." Sometimes I feel the need to make a copy of her sublease, underline SUB and tack it to her door. I know, I'm a bitch, I'm also not doing this nancy-ass screwing around having two hour long "conversations" because everything has to be a compromise. We're not married, yo, move your dishes because I found the apartment first and they're in my way, is how the compromise goes.
This is one of those blog entries, among many, I sort of assume no one will read because I'm sick and bored out of my mind and that = rambling of the worst kind. And there is NOTHING for me to do. Almost nothing. I can either see what new decorating novelty they're dreaming up on HGTV or I can see how the environmental revolution started with my new book, a biography on Rachel Carson. I might have to flip a coin.