Blowing your wad

I am unbelievably tired today. I managed to stay awake through the signing of all the papers for my home-equity loan, but just barely, and required several glasses of iced tea. Still, it's done, and when the smoke clears, the Volkswagen and some other things will be paid off, I'll have somewhere north of twelve thousand dollars left over, and I'll be prepared for the day when (not if) the septic system freaks out and starts giving me shit. Literally.

Much better to have that money now, sitting there waiting, than to have to go round it up later, when rates are higher, and the septic is undergoing a meltdown in real time. I've been a little uneasy about my lack of a buffer of ready cash, as opposed to credit. I would just as soon have actual money sitting there, because as big as some of my lines are, I think redoing the septic would blow the limit on any of my cards.

I have decided that I am a fan of casual sex, even though it's rarer than most people think. It's not that I don't want to have a relationship, but jeez, I wish there was someone I could call and say, "you know, I'd really love to have sex with you," have her agree, and we just make each other feel good for a while. I am really tired of feeling lousy, and a nice, affectionate fuck would do me so much good right now. Alas, no candidates are available, at least not as far as I know. If you're in the DC area and want to help out, you know where to find me.

Argh. Just now while I was writing this, one of my co-workers, one who looks great in a skirt, went by my cube in a spectacular black-and-white skirt and black sweater. If I wasn't so damn tired (and she wasn't so damn married) I'd go proposition her right this minute.

Quit teasing me, world.