holy jeebus, is it windy today or what? i thought the roof was going to blow off last night. then, this morning as i got into my car, the stinkin' wind slammed the door on my left leg. yowch. i am sitting here at the reference desk facing the big windows that overlook the circle, and the flags are crisp and fluttering at full attention. i have a feeling that it might be kinda cold as well, but i won't find out until i leave at 5:00.
we have houseguests again this weekend - some film friends of scott's, in from new mexico. scott is helping them with a weekend shoot for a Large Corporation in town - he's even getting paid! holy smokes. that absolutely never happens. these guys all work in trade, it seems. "you helped me on that last project i had, so i'll help you out on this one, buddy!" scott just had about 7 billion dollars of work done on his car today, so the extra ca$h won't go unnoticed.
my crafty plans for the weekend (why, oh why, am i acting like it is friday? planning my weekend? that's just asking for trouble.):
- finish secret knitting (not sure why it's secret - it's not like maddie uses the computer yet...)
- buy more yarn for sweater/jacket
- obsess over garden plans
- go to eric's place to give him an assessment for his Apartment Fantabulization(c).
re: that last bit: eric has been a'bitchin-and-a'moanin about the state of his apartment. it's kind of a mess, in the way that scott's house was kind of a mess. loads and stacks of crap everywhere, no apparent order to anything, piles and piles of movies, crooked half-broken shelving, pictures hung in weird places. you get the picture. he always says how much he loves our house, and keeps saying that i should come over and help him... but we're finally going to do it! i'm trying to get ashby to help, but i am willing to do it solo. i'm excited! i love rearranging furniture, and messing with other people's stuff - this will be dandy.
gah, it's only thursday.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
the windy plains
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment