Stick it in your ear?

O has been complaining of her arms hurting her - I think they're fried from her sites. The skin is a bit pink and the insertion places are taking a long time to heal. There's considerable hypertrophy going on, too.

The problem is that she will only use her stomach. And only an area about three fingers high and a palm wide. She won't use the top of her butt and after tearing out a leg site, won't do those either. I've convinced her to go a bit higher up on her tummy, but still, those are going to blow out soon, too. There's just not much space left on her.

So where else can she do them? I'm thinking, with warmer weather, of trying to get her to try a thigh site again, but she's very resistant to this idea. If anyone has any good ideas or methods of persuading an extremely strong-willed 11 year-old in this matter, I would appreciate them.

A whole lotta nothin'

Random crap.

I need to find out why I'm so fucking tired all the time. I eat well - lots of fruits and whole grains and veggies and protein. I take a good pre-natal vitamin. I get 7 or 8 hours of sleep most nights, sometimes more. And yet, I feel like I'm on death's door by noon. I'm afraid I'm going to crash my car when I'm driving home because I can barely keep my eyes open. I talked to the OB nurse about it and she was pretty dismissive. I'm either going to have to figure out how to work from home or TCBIM is going to have to get a high-paying second job because I just can't do this any more. I'm too tired to function properly.


My mother's stupid cat has broken four of my dishes and took a big old shit on my couch. She had better be bringing me back some fancy-assed presents from her month in Italy because I'm about ready to kill this animal. And I LIKE cats. TCBIM, not so much. He's ready to chuck the cat outside.


I have heartburn. I never have heartburn. Ever. But now, 21 weeks into this pregnancy, I feel like a dragon. I'm chewing Tums like they're going out of style.


I need a vacation. Somewhere where I can just go and sit and be and not think about anything or anyone or have to be anywhere. I need to decompress. I need the beach or a big park or someplace where I can just lie in the sun and not think for a few days. By myself.


I think we bought The Money Pit. We found out that three of the radiators leak - one of them pretty seriously. The boiler also leaks. Leaking boilers = very, very expensive, apparently. And the tub and sub-flooring in the bathroom need replacing. TCBIM is in plumbing and can do most of the work himself, but still. Boilers? Not cheap. Steam radiators? Not in plentiful supply. Fan-fucking-tastic. Do we have any money? Like fuck we do. It's giving me a big headache and making me get all panicky and breathless to think of the expense.


But I did get Joke's cook book - thanks, Joke. Once I stop living off Ramen Noodles and Kraft Dinner, I'll be able to cook like I grew up in the North End.


Edited to add: I just got this link from someone and it's improved my mood immeasurably.

This Is A Public Service Announcement

No guitars, though.

Please contact your senators about this bill. It doesn't just affect people with diabetes, although that's my main interest in it.

Sandra has a really good post on this and says it better than I ever could, so go read hers and then go bug the crap out of your senators. Thank you.

Julia, you ass.

Someone in Moscow found my blog by doing a search on Julia ass.

I'm listed just below Julia Bond, porn star and ass eater (ew). Nice.

This site meter stuff is strange. On the one hand, it satisfies my curiousity about who's visiting the site. On the other, it lets me see that about 50 people a DAY are stopping by. Which means I have a lot of lurkers - or people are just whipping thru on their way to someplace else.

There should be an equivalent of Kilroy Was Here for the blogosphere. Just a little tag to say you were here, but didn't feel like leaving a comment.

So Bloody Tired

Who needs sleep?
well you're never gonna get it
Who needs sleep?
tell me what's that for
Who needs sleep?
be happy with what you're getting
There's a guy who's been awake
since the Second World War

I am so tired. I sit at my desk and fantasize about pillows and duvets and downy beds in a blissfully quiet room. I long for sleep the way others long for world peace or an end to world hunger.

Right there, in the middle of that bed. That's where I want to be. Sleeping. With no one bothering me, no one crying, no one needing a site change or a diaper change or a personality change. Just me, alone. Glass of water on the table, maybe a fluffy novel to read and hours and hours and hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Concerned Designer

Concerned Designer

This was kind of cool. In a hey-you-really-ARE-neurotic kind of way.

Attack Of The Memes

Since the illustrious Badger is meme-stealing, I have no qualms about joining her. Took a while, but here it is:

Put your iMP3podwinampiTunes thingy on random and answer the following questions, in order, with the songs that come up.

What's missing from my life?
Falls To Climb - REM
"Someone has to take the fall.
Why not me?"
So, not guilt. That's a load off.

Will I find love?
Fa Fa - Guster
Hmm. The chorus says Never be the same again. Maybe?

Will I become rich?
Dakota - Stereophonics
If I have to go to one of the Dakotas or name my child Dakota in order to get rich, then I'll stay poor, thanks.

Does someone have a crush on me?
When You Come Back Down - Nickel Creek
Whatever this may mean re: a crush, y'all should download this song right away. It's only fantastic.
"When you're soarin' through the air
I'll be your solid ground
Take every chance you dare."

What's my favourite sexual position?
Smooth - Santana.
The song gets me all hot and bothered, so Smooth must be a good position to have.

Am I good-looking?
It Had To Be You (Instrumental) - Harry Connick Jr.
That's a yes, then.

What makes me most happy?
Sea Of No Cares - Great Big Sea
Good one. I do love the ocean. No cares is unrealistic, but it would definitely make me happy.

What's my biggest regret?

Out Of The Woods - Sinead Lohan
I got nothing here.


How will I die?
We Didn't Start The Fire - Billy Joel
Good. Fires scare the shit out of me.

Do I act my age?
Unforgettable - Nat King Cole
Well, if I do, at least I'm memorable.

What type of tatoo should I get?
Girls On Film - Duran Duran.
Cool. Maybe I'll get a Nagel chick. That I know, without looking it up, who that is really is testament to my age. Oy.

What is my spirit/animal guide?
No Woman, No Cry - Sublime
'k.

Do I like pain?
England - 2, Columbia - O, Kirsty McColl
HAH! Can I get a Hell, Yeah?
"It is not in my nature to ever pick the winning team
Sometimes I think I'm happy then I remember it's a dream
Now it isn't in my nature to ever pick a winner
I always pick a bastard who would have me for his dinner"

Is there anyone else out there like me?
Trying To Reason With Hurrican Season - Jimmy Buffett
Yes, as long as they're full of hot air and lots of drama.

Do I love to party?
What Can Never Be - Sinead Lohan
Well, given that I'm pregnant and will be breastfeeding after that, this is apt.

Where should I move to?
Deacon Blues - Steely Dan
I should move to a smoky, seedy nightclub. I'll save you a seat on the banquette.

Will I ever be President?
The Broad Majestic Shannon - The Pogues
Not unless I move to Ireland.

What is fun for me?
Star Me Kitten - REM
"Just fuck me kitten
You are wild and I'm in your possesion
Nothing's free so, fuck me kitten
I'm in your possesion
So, fuck me kitten"
Michael Stipe saying fuck. That's fun.


Will I ever learn to fly?
Sweet Afton - Nickel Creek
A Robert Burns poem, set to music. It's not flying, so much as meandering. Meandering is good.

What is my superpower?
Love Is The Seventh Wave - Sting
So what are my other six superpowers, then?

Will I be successful?
This Is Planet Earth - Duran Duran
Apparently, I'm The Brain and I WILL Take over the world. Excellent.

How often do I get angry?
Up The Junction - Squeeze
Only when I'm knocked up. Which is SUCH a LIE!

What is my favourite thing to do?
I Know What I Know - Paul Simon
Trivial Pursuit. Correct.

I dinnae think she can take much more, Cap'n!

Since I now have to get up at what-the-fuck o’clock every weekday morning, it’s made me a little cranky. And before you start laughing hysterically, I’m quite aware that this is my usual state of mind. I am, however, even MORE cranky than usual.

In honour of my born-again cranky-hood, I give to you: Rant In B Minor.

Who thought it would be a good idea to name a trucking company A. Duie Pyle? Seriously. It’s emblazoned across the back sides of tractor trailers all across New England. And I am NOT the only one who thinks of a big, steaming pile of poo every time I see one of those trucks, because I’ve asked. This is one time when I can’t be accused of channeling an eight year-old boy.
I am cat-sitting my mother’s cat while she’s off in Italy for a month – must be nice. Bi-atch. Black cat with an infintessimal white spot on his face. Named Punto. Why? Because instead of just calling him Spot and going for the more obvious humour, she has to name him Spot in Spanish, thus ensuring everyone and their little brother ask her about the cat’s name. I am about to call him DEAD, though, because he’s taken to dragging large sections of newspaper under my dresser every night and then kneading them. All. Night. Long. Crackle-rustle-crackle-rustle. Which makes the Dumbest Dog In The Universe come to investigate. Which makes the cat growl and spit and then knead harder. Which wakes me up at LEAST three times and when you have to get up at what-the-fuck o’clock, it makes you a bit crabby.

Also? Steam radiators? They suck. They bang and clang and hiss and wheeze like a gigantic, asthmatic sperm whale. They have a tendency to kick on at seriously-what-the-fuck o’clock, which is approximately 40 minutes before what-the-fuck o’clock, ensuring that I am awake 20 of those precious minutes, finally falling back to sleep only to be woken up by my alarm going off. Which is infuriating. And if you think I’m getting up at seriously-what-the-fuck o’clock, you’ve got another think coming.

After a 15-1/2 month struggle, we have been able to get The Boo to sleep in her crib without a peep or a fuss, which, let me tell you, was ALMOST enough to convince me that there may actually be some sort of higher power. Now, however, she has an ear infection in each ear. Again. Which means that she won’t stay asleep in her crib for more than about 30 minutes. Which means she’s been sleeping in our bed for the last two nights. Now, I love The Boo. She’s cute and funny and all those other yummy baby things. She’s also a friggin’ windmill in her sleep. I am sick of having toes in my back, my boobs, my hair…it’s getting old. Tonight, she’s going back into the crib, because I am NOT having her get used to this all over again. I want my bed back.

I got to work this morning and there was a TWIG in my bra. I don't hang my laundry out on the line (not having a line to hang it from), so how it got there shall remain one of life's little mysteries. Probably explains why my boob was so itchy while I was driving to work.

I just want to be DONE unpacking. I’m sick of tripping over boxes. We have two washers and two dryers in the kitchen, too, which makes for tight quarters. Why, you ask? Because TCBIM had to have the garage turned into a den. Immediately, apparently. So, I have no garage any more, which means I have to place no store the spare washer and dryer. Anyone want to buy them? I’m sick of looking at them.

The final enrage o' the day: The fuckers over there on Yawkey Way have TRADED Bronson Arroyo for Wily (put the second L in there, for the love of Pete) Mo Pena. (and no, there’s no tilda over the N. I checked.) Why? Why? I love Bronson. He's a great pitcher and was a great team player, willing to do anything to stay with the Red Sox. After giving them the hometown discount, I’d be willing to bet he’s seven shades of pissed off. Welcome to my world, Bronson.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

It published today's post UNDERNEATH Friday's post. How nice.

It's about bloody time

Stupid Blogspot. It's driving me NUTS. This site's been up and down more than a whore's knickers. And now I'm so annoyed that I've forgotten what I wanted to say. I had a book list, a la Joke, all set to go, but alas, it was eaten. I was even thinking about doing the confession thing that seems to be making the rounds. Or, I could have bitched about TCBIM, who is being a butthead again - although I'm sure I'll be able to come up with another post about him soon enough. The Exhole called to cuss me out yesterday, too, and I was going to go into detail about how I calmly told him to discuss it with my lawyer (who, as it turns out, wasn't much help, but oh well.)


But now I'm too annoyed. So, nyahboo to you, Blogspot. I'm taking my ball and I'm going home.

You're such a snob!

I am probably giving away too much, but here goes:

I readily confess to being a snob. An arbitrary, opinionated, sometimes contrary snob, but a snob nonetheless.

I read the dictionary and love the origins of words and their more obscure or obsolete uses. My goal in life is to get the complete, unabridged Oxford English Dictionary. I would build a special bookshelf to house said dictionary.

I think people who don’t read books have something fundamentally wrong with them and I don’t trust them and don’t think they have much going on in their heads.

I categorize people based on their taste in books, too. Nora Robers & John Grisham = Fox News/People Magazine type. Current best sellers = Mostly ok, bordering on trend-chaser. Classics and only classics = the worst kind of ivory-towered academic.

If you have a liking for a style of music I find awful, it colours my opinion of you and I immediately plug you into a category. C&W = hick. Current pop = ditz. Celine Dion = all your taste is in your mouth and even that’s probably debatable. However, if you like the music I like, you must be someone worth knowing.

If you like the following:
Bruce Springsteen
Jimmy Buffett
Dave Matthews Band
REM
Jack Johnson
Excellent – we can talk about decent music.

If you like any of these:
TMBG
Great Big Sea
The Pogues
The Beautiful South/Crowded House
Lyle Lovett
Manhattan Transfer
Then you have wonderful taste and we can probably talk about lots of things in addition to music.

People who don’t follow the news, at least a bit, are also foreign to me. People who listen to NPR immediately go up in my estimation. If you read The New Yorker or Atlantic Monthly, you get bonus points.

Ultra-conservatives make my skin crawl.

I don’t give a shit about clothing, but I can’t stand it when people look sloppy. Comfortable is fine, but attempt to match your shirt and trousers and don’t wear white socks with dress shoes.

Poor table manners make me nauseous. I stopped dating a guy once because he talked with his mouth full and waved around his fork while he was eating. Great guy, very intelligent, funny, taller than me (hard for me to find), but his eating habits were one step up from a toddler’s.

Also, please put your napkin in your lap. Please put the glasses above the knife. Please put the fork on the left-hand side of the plate and the knife (blade towards the plate) and spoon on the right. Don’t saw at your meat. Eating in the European fashion will win you points with me. When you are done, put your knife and fork at 4:20 on your plate and don’t, for the love of god, place your napkin on top of your dirty plate.

I love good (read: expensive/wanky) food, especially if it’s prepared by someone else – more so because I don’t then have to do dishes than any lack of ability in my cooking skills – but I’ll also readily enjoy hot dogs at Fenway Park or Kraft dinner out of the pretty blue box.

I also like Miracle Whip.

Cheese. Cheese is good. If you don’t like cheese, you are internally flawed and I will glance askance at you. Frequently.

Don't get me started on crappy beers. Bud Light is not beer, it's beer-flavoured water. Same holds true for Michelob Light, Miller light and anything with the word Ultra in the name. NB - if you have to put a piece of fruit in your beer, it's a shitty beer.

Chocolate. If you don’t like chocolate, I just can’t trust you. How can you not like chocolate? It’s ok (sort of) if you like Dove or some other mass-produced thing, but if you get into wanky chocolates, even better. And if you love dark chocolate with a passion bordering on obsession, well, come sit by me. White chocolate? Get out. Just leave. It’s not chocolate. It’s fat and flavouring and complete and utter crap. Worse than a Hershey bar.

Women who can only discuss their children, homes, hair styles and nothing else leave me baffled and feeling like the gawky wall-flower at the junior high school dance. I have a plethora of things to discuss. Once those have been covered, then and only then, I might be able to have a 3-minute conversation on those topics.

Poor grammar skills make my blood boil and will turn the inside of my skull a flaming orangey-red. I have to keep away from red pens for fear I’ll go around marking up signs and menus and flyers. (Note that there’s no apostrophe on any of those. That’s because they’re PLURAL, not posessive. Thank you.)


God. Re-reading this, it’s kind of amazing I have any friends at all. I call myself, only half-jokingly, a curmudgeonly misanthrope, but going by this, that doesn’t seem far from the truth.

All About Meme

1. What is your favorite word?

This is so tough. I can't pick just one, so here's a small selection:

Sesquipedalian - Given to the use of polysyllabic words. Go figure, huh?
Cromulent - Fine; acceptable. 'cause it's polysyllabic. Makes me sound wicked smaht.
Defenestrate - To throw out of a window.
Perspicacity - Acuteness of perception, discernment or understanding.
and finally, just to bring down the tone:
Poop Deck. Because I really AM an eight-year old boy.

2. What irks you every time you hear it?

Irregardless. It makes me want to bang my head against a wall. Or better yet, slap the speaker of said WRONG word.
Should of, would of, could of. NO! It's HAVE. Not of.
Me and him. Me and her. Me and them. C'mon. It doesn't even SOUND correct.
People who go up? at the ends of their sentences? As if everything they said? Was a question?
Putting like in between every third word.

You want to know what would just make my head explode? The following sentence:
So, like, irregardless of the weather? Me and him? We, like, went for a walk? And then we went to the movies? And it was, like, really bad? So, we, like, left, right?

Ka-BOOM! Brains everywhere.

I need a t-shirt that says Grammar Rules. And I should probably add pedantic curmudgeon to my list of favourite words.


3. Name the first concert you ever went to.

The J. Geils Band at the original Gahden. Fuckin' rocked. Of course, I will now totally ruin what little musical cred I had by saying I followed that up by going to see (and shriek at) Rick Springfield.

4. Name a song you'll never get sick of hearing.

Thunder Road, by Bruce Springsteen. It's number one on my all-time, top ten desert island song list.
Also making the list (and because I like things in threes):
The Sickbed of Cuchullain - The Pogues
And anything by Steely Dan

5. What song, album, or band influenced you most as a teenager OR what song/album is the soundtrack of your youth?

Soundtrack of my childhood would be just about any AM radio staple of the 70s. Starland Vocal Band's Afternoon Delight. Tony Orlando & Dawn's Knock Three Times. Shawn Cassidy's Hey Deanie. Barry Manilow's Copacabana. The Grease sountrack.

Teenage years were all New Wave, all the time. U2 - Boy and War. The Cure, Depeche Mode, The Clash, The Jam, Duran Duran, The Smiths, Art of Noise, Squeeze, The Alarm, Echo & The Bunnymen, Crowded House and A-ha.

These Are The People In Your Neighbourhood

Saturday, I got to meet a little slice of the OC. It was very, very cool. I wish Olivia had been able to come along, but she decided she'd rather go to a birthday party. Next time....

Everyone was fantastic. It was incredible to meet these people, knowing it was for the first time, and yet feel like they were old friends. I didn't have one twinge of nervousness and usually I a mess before meeting someone new. A group of new people usually has my stomach in knots and my knees knocking. This was like sliding into a comfy cardigan.

Shannon's kids are adorable and would run me ragged. Brandon was a gap-toothed cutie with an eye for the ladeeeees. Her other two are little blonde bundles of energy. And Shannon and her husband are lovely people.

Nicole is funky and funny and had a cool hat that fascinated Isobel. In fact, Isobel was pretty taken with Nicole, period. Toddled off with her without so much as a backwards glance.

Lyrecha is slender, tall and blonde and was a great conversationalist - I really enjoyed talking with her. And her engagement ring is stunning.

Kerri. Man, Kerri is just too cute. Blonde, cute, tiny, gorgeous teeth, beaming grin, funny as all hell and genuinely nice. It would be very hard not to like Kerri.

I had a great time meeting everyone. I really hope we can do it again, soon.

I hope I win

These are my *ahem* answers to Joke's questionnaire. Hope I got them all right.


1. What is the best brand of products to preserve leather?
A little spit,some elbow grease and a dab of hair pomade.

2. My alcohoroscope shows me to be what sign?
Boone's Farm Strawberry Wine

3. What do I like to drink in those teeny tiny Petrossian glasses and what do I enjoy eating as an accompaniment?
Boone's Farm Strawberry Wine with Piggly-Wiggly brand Hot&Spicy Pork Rinds

4. What's my Myers-Briggs personality type?
Shy and retiring

5. What do I use to clean the burners of the porn grill?
Miss February's lacy underthings

6. How long did I actually have (in the physical sense) the car that sucked?
1 year, 9 months, 23 days, 4 hours, 52 minutes and 12 seconds

7. What Rat Packer am I?
Shirley McClain

8. What, in my opinion, is the worst part of living in SoFla?
All those old people who drive so fast

9. Who is the artist being honored (in absentia) at JokeFest2006?
Bob Ross

10. How many "tuxedo-able" bow ties do I own?
Just one, but it's a snazzy green and yellow madras number

11. What is my most heretical recipe?
Pate de fois gras on homemade crostini

12. What is the title of the first book I recommended on this blog?
The Roadkill Cookbook

13. Do I consider myself a metrosexual and why or why not?
Yes, because you wear your flannel shirts tucked in to your nicely pressed Wrangler jeans

14. How many turkeys did I grill for Thanksgiving 2005?
None. You did three in your turkey fryer, though, and they were great with the Boone's Farm Strawberry Wine.

15. What did I spend 1/1/05 doing?
Installing mag wheels and a gun rack in your 1975 Dodge pickup truck

16. What scary thing did my 8 year old ask Santa for?
A three piece, worsted wool Ralph Lauren suit and a watch chain

17. What's wrong with MOST organic milk these days?
All those cows roaming free, eating grass and not getting any hormones is just wrong and goes against nature.

18. What airline couldn't get us from "here to there"
Billy Joe-Bob's Puddle Jumper Express

19. What do I call the day in which Poppy and self became pals?
The Day Poppy And I Became Pals

20. What is my medical directive to my wife/children?
Make sure they keep me alive as long as possible, so I can see every episode of Wanted Ted Or Alive on OLN.

21. What holiday was the subject of a LONG and hilarious blog entry that, sadly, Blogger ate?
The one about our trip to Dollywood and Pigeon Forge, TN.

22. How did I describe the ::cough, cough:: Cupid garden statue TFBIM got? (BONUS! What happened to that statue?)
The finest use of concrete known to man. It's sitting proudly atop the planter-thet-used-to-be-a-toilet that you have prominently displayed in your front yard.

23. Which relative vexes me telephonically the most?
Your cousin Bubba, who always calls for bail money.

24. How many times has an Italian car left me stranded?
The Kia? It's got that 100,000 mile warranty, and besides, it knows you'd shoot its tires off if it broke down.

25. What did I consider (at the time) to be better than sex?
Wings and shooters at Hooters

Some seriously funny shit

Go read this blog.

If you aren't laughing your ass off over the Resevoir Dogs/Veggie Tales thing, there's something seriously wrong with you. And if you haven't seen Resevoir Dogs, what are you waiting for?


______________

I took O to her counselling appointment yesterday. She wanted me in there, so I went. I didn't say much and let O do most of the talking. She was very composed and matter-of-fact about everything, told her side of the story about her dad without getting weepy or upset or anything. When we left, she said she definitely wants to go back.

Her dad (hereafter to be referred to as The Exhole) called last night and I guess she told him about it. Of course, he called me today, seven shades of pissed off. Said he should have been told about it. Said she was upset about it. Said he wanted to go to the next one. I told him who the therapist was and what day the next appointment was and then I called O. Asked if she was upset about the appointment, because her dad said she was. She said, "No, I just didn't want to talk to him about it." When I asked if she wanted him at the next one, she very emphatically said, "No, I don't want him there. It's none of his business and he'd just get pissed off anyway."

After hanging up the phone and having a little gleeful chortle, I called the therapist and relayed this message into her voice mail. I hope to god the woman listens and doesn't let Exhole in. O doesn't want him there. They do have to abide by that, don't they?

Wicked Smaht

I am, too, because this test says so.

I got 28 right in about 20 minutes. I haven't finished yet, and may just give up in frustration, but hey, if the interweb thingy says I'm smart, then it must be true. Right? Just say yes. It'll make life so much easier if you just agree with me.

Thank you, Anderson Cooper

I always fall asleep with the tv on. Last night was no exception. Something on Anderson Cooper, 360 woke me up at 1 a.m., so I got out of bed to check O's bg. Good thing I did, because she was completely out of insulin and was 283. It's really not a lot of fun to change a cartridge at 1 a.m. when it's cold and all I'm wearing is a t-shirt and undies and I have to pee like a racehorse. Wrestling with a dead-asleep, 5' tall girl isn't a walk in the park either. She kept swatting at me and muttering "Stop it, leave me alone, what are you doing?" and trying to wrap herself back up in the duvet. Finally got it changed and bolused her for the high. I added a .2 to her bolus, which is probably why she woke up at 71 this morning. Whoops. Not too low, but she's been running high for a week and the extra bolus plus the basal rate changes I made the night before probably combined to push her down a bit.

She's back to not entering her bg when she eats. It's driving me nuts. She's got a counselling appointment today and I'm going to bring that up, but I don't know if this woman is familiar with the ins and outs of diabetes care, so I may have to call Joslin about it. Again. I don't know how to fix this, short of taking away her pump, but if I do that, then I really won't be able to tell if she checks and boluses for food or not. At least when she just boluses, there's a record of it, proof that she's not checking.

I talked to her about coming to the Pre-Union on the 11th and she wanted to go, rather than go to her dad's for the whole weekend. Heh. I didn't say anything, but inside, I was doing the little end zone dance.

__________________________________________________________

In other news: I signed my life over to the bank on Tuesday. But I own a house now. Well, the bank owns it, but y'know. It's mine. And there's not a burnt orange, sculpted rug in sight. I cannot wait to move. One more week. One more week.

AND! Harry Potter & The Goblet of Fire comes out on DVD on Tuesday. Yay!!