Bitch-or-not list for Sunday

• I woke up at 6:30 with a spinal headache.


• I failed to fall back to sleep, even after moving to the couch and elevating my knees.


• After visiting a friend last night (much fun!), I've discovered that Singulair works much more poorly than Accolate.


• Accolate is more expensive than Singulair.


• Boy agrees that going back on Accolate is worthwhile as visiting this friend's home (and her cats) will likely happen more frequently, plus I won't get as sick when visiting other feline-oriented friends.


• Did I mention that headache?


• I didn't fall asleep until 3:30am, either.


• I miss going to the Dawning regularly, but I'm not gonna go back until thatritebastard DJs again.


• I'll make an exception for the Silent Muse show.


• When I crack my neck a certain way, I feel tingles, jolts, and vibrations running up and down my back, neck/jawline, and arms.


• Just moving my neck to one side or the other often cracks it.


• I'm exhausted.


• I had fruity pebbles with half and half for breakfast.


• It's obvious that the sweetgum trees are spewing seeds, trees are pollinating, and bugs are slowly appearing. The birds aren't hitting the feeders as much.


• Watching robins pull worms from the ground is something I still love to do.


• I've been hearing a pounding for the last two hours. Who the hell hammers this early on a Sunday? If I were trying to sleep, I'd be pissed.


• In lieu of sleeping or thinking rationally, I'm planning my raised bed and area cover crop (green manure) for the front yard.


• Espresso or cherry coke?


• I think I'll call my grandparents today and ask Grandpa to tell me about the mammoth-hunting coming-of-age rituals he participated in as a pubescent boyman.


• Then, I shall ask grandma if their necessary was a squatter or a sitter--I'm actually curious about that.


• I'll wait for snide comments from relatives and parents now.

pound pound pound pound

Dear Daily Progress,
I hate you. Your delivery agent always throws the paper haphazardly. It usually ends up in the wet grass. Today, it was on the sidewalk outside our fence, next to the street. I've noticed a couple new dents in our trunk. I have a feeling the paper gets bounced off of it more often than not. Since I was up with a horrible headache, I walked out to get it around 8am because Sunday papers are a hot commodity, especially when they're on public property.

As a result of my fetching the paper, my neighbors guessed that I was awake. Our bedrooms are on the side of the house next to theirs. They're now out there with mallets HAMMERING dead stucco or paint off their foundation. My husband is still asleep. Actually, he's probably in there thinking horrible things about our perfectly nice (but insane--who hammers stucco on a cold Sunday morning?) neighbors.

And yeah, I was awoken byb a headache. Having my neighbors pound stucco is not helping. I've concluded that this is all the fault of your delivery agent. My headache was probably spurred by the sound of the paper slamming against the chain link fence.

There's my husband. I'm going to have him come kill you now. Your paper sucks, anyhow. I only get it so I know when trash delivery is rescheduled.

Sincerely,
krasota

(no subject)

So, I got it into my head to *accomplish* something today. I've charged the battery for the drill and I've marked level lines for the rails I want to hang in the kitchen.

I can't find my stud finder. It's the beginning of allergy season, so I can't rely on listening for the right sound by doing the knocking thing, either. I can't even find a damn compass. I'd rather drill into the studs. I'll use wall anchors if I have to, but studs are better.

If you were my little stud finder, where would you be? Those of you who are snickering can shaddup right now.

In other news, I can't find an artgum eraser, either, which I will probably need to get the pencil off the wall. I suppose I can try to find a mr. clean magic eraser, instead, but they tend to spread the graphite around more.

I should have my drafting pencil case SOMEWHERE. I wonder if my old eraser is still good . . .

My husband is home! I thought the local celtic gang kidnapped him!