People In Hell Want Icewater
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So that's where they hide


July 26, 2005 - 2:42 p.m.

It's damn hot. It's 96 out of my house, and though the humidity is only 47%, it's still enough to make it hotter. I am enormously pleased to be in a large, air-conditioned building all day. Thank you, taxpayers of the United States of America.

It's a little annoying coming out of the building at 6 and having condensation form on me, though...

Sarah is coming back from vacation later tonight. I'm trying to figure out what might happen there... she wants to see me again, and I want to make sure that the reason I want to see her is something other than simply that I've been feeling rather alone these last couple of months.

I know that's a part of it... I just don't want it to be the only reason.

Podcast #6 is out there... this is the one about jazz vocalise. #7 will be up next week, I guess. I have to think of what to do for #8. I'll think of something, I know... I also know I want to get a better microphone, but that, along with all other acquisitions, will have to wait until I've picked up the newly-rebuilt Saab. Payday is coming soon... and with the refinance, all money pressure will ease now. Sometimes one can be too enthusiastic about paying off bills, particularly when it leaves you with pocket change to live on until payday. I'm going to trivia tonight, and paying for dinner with the gift certificate I won last time playing trivia.

I discovered the culprit: it's THE WHALE who's been pooping between the inside door and the screen door in the upstairs hall! I caught her red-handed (or brown-butted, I guess) the other night and lectured her at length about not pooping in unauthorized locations. She just thinks she's too good to poop in the same catboxes that the other cats find perfectly OK. She's asking for a transfer to the kitchen, is what she's asking for.

And here, I'd thought it was Tucker who had been doing that. Now, I know. Sorry, Tucker...

I repotted a bunch of plants the other night... the citrus trees now have a little more room to spread out, and a couple of tomato plants now have large containers to live in. In lieu of doing a garden, having a tomato or a jalapeno on the porch once in a while should be just fine. Mr. Woodchuck never comes up on the porch, so they're safe from his nibbling for now.

I had occasion to have to go over to another department on my floor at work today. I got over there, and was practically in shock: so this is where all those good-looking single women hide out! In the media and communications department!

Argh. I hate discovering stuff like this so late in the game. I wish I'd known this in 1994.


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