Inane Chatter

The other night, John and I got up at 2am to let Riley out.  (Riley has been having intestinal difficulties, and we were trying to avoid waking up to another gigantic mess.)  I stepped out onto the deck to shoo him into the yard, and I heard hooting.  Like actual owl-type hooting.  The kind I’ve only ever heard exaggerated in scary nighttime scenes in Disney movies.  And those are always set deep in the woods or on farms or something.  I certainly didn’t expect to hear it in our treeless suburban neighborhood.  And then I heard a second one.  TWO OWLS.  In my backyard.  At 2 in the morning.  May I never hear that again (if only because I prefer not to be up at 2 in the morning).

Hey, I managed to embarrass myself on Twitter this morning.  On the plus side, John Scalzi replied to my tweet.  On the minus side, I came off looking like an idiot.

And on top of that, I look like a nerd trying to impress someone with a big word.  In my defense, I ran out of characters when I tried to say “irrelevant to the discussion” instead.  I was being concise.

I’m going to hide now.

Update: To make the whole Twitter thing worse, I was just catching up on my blog reading, went to Whatever, and found that the article was apparently in yesterday’s Washington Post and John Scalzi posted it on his own blog then.  So now I’m an idiot who clearly doesn’t keep up with his blog.  Just great.

Hmmph.  That title didn’t come out the way I meant it.  Anyway, here is a picture of the wall of books in the dining room (that used to be the family room) with all of the books lined up at the front of the shelves.

We bought two more bookshelves last weekend (the two in the middle, not that it matters) and brought down the two that were in our bedroom.  Those two are on the opposite wall from these.  They’re all 100% full and I’m using three shelves of the bookshelf to the right of the TV in the other room (that used to be the living room).  The four bookshelves in the library (which used to be the dining room) have been emptied of fiction and are slowly being filled with non-fiction books from upstairs.  I moved my little desk (which used to be Dad’s little desk) into the bay window in the library so there would be room for another shelf in the dining room.  Got all that?  There might be a quiz.

Now for the compromise, since as I mentioned the other day, I’m not completely sure I like having all the books forced into a line.  (Where are their souls?  Down with conformity!)  Tell me what you think.

If I had another wine rack, I wouldn't need to do this. But I kinda like it.

They’re not the greatest pictures (I’m not the greatest photographer, to say the least), but you get the idea.  The only thing I’m not crazy about is how the books behind the vases and the pictures and the bottles of wine are hidden.   I know they’re there, but the casual browser (because so many of those come waltzing through my home – this is somehow not a real concern now that I’m writing it down) does not.

Do you like it?  Do you hate it?  Indifferent?  That seems most likely.

The duplicates. All 54 of them. Anyone craving a copy of The Mote in God's Eye?

The books (the fiction), they have been reorganized and reshelved.  I finished just a few minutes ago.  For now, they’re all flush against the front edge (John loves it), but I have a compromise in mind.  I’ll try it tomorrow.  I have pictures, but my phone’s USB cable is upstairs (and the pictures aren’t that great – let’s hope for sunlight tomorrow) and I’m not willing to go get it.  Once I go upstairs tonight, I’m not coming back down.  I also weeded out all the duplicates today.  We have multiple copies of 54 books.  In some cases (The Left Hand of Darkness, War and Remembrance), we have three copies.  There are a couple others we have two of, but for various reasons, I want to keep them in our collection.  The duplicates will probably join the inventory in the basement.  Unless we find someone who’s dying to have a hardcover edition of The Hidden City (the third book in David Eddings’ The Tamuli) or a copy of The Winds of War that is falling apart (most of the books are in pretty good shape, but not this one so much).  Or any of the 48 books I didn’t name.  47.  John doesn’t want to get rid of the extra copy of Johnny Tremain.  (Just like I don’t want to get rid of my extra copy of Anne of Green Gables.  Sure, I have the box set, but I remember reading that copy.)

In other than book news, I found two of the greatest videos ever on The Daily What today.

The first is a bunch of cows looking crazy interested in a Dixieland combo in a field in France. Good music, funny cows.

The second is a juggling video. AMAZING.

Once again, the impetus behind my semi-quasi-half-assed (but still!) massive cleaning effort today is not the desire to live an uncluttered, streak-free, dog hair-free life.  Oh, no, I can live quite happily with clutter piled high and nose tracks on the windows, as evidenced by the state of the house.  I do have some pride though, and I refuse to allow someone – anyone (other than John) – to see the house like this.  Unless they helped put it that way.  And unless they’re in John’s band.  I don’t go to great lengths to clean up when the band comes over to rehearse.  Although maybe I should.  ANYway, I’m cleaning because we’re expecting a visitor this weekend.  Not just a visitor – a refugee fleeing the hurricane.  A refugee with cats!  Because cats shouldn’t have to fend for themselves in the middle of a hurricane.  Instead, they’ll have to fend for themselves in a house with dogs.  Honestly, I’m not sure which they’d prefer.  We’ll manage just fine.  Although based on the weather right now, it seems totally ridiculous to be planning for a hurricane.  It’s sunny, a little muggy, bright blue sky, fluffy white clouds that are not in the least bit intimidating…

Oh, speaking of intimidating, I passed a car yesterday (a dinky, dented, old Honda or something – not impressive (not that there’s anything wrong with Hondas – I’m just painting a picture)) with the license plate DOMN8U.  Really?  In that car?  Napoleon complex much?  It’s so aggressive and hateful.  Maybe I’m reading too much into it.

Update: My house will not be a haven for hurricane refugees after all.  But hey – it’s clean!  So I can enjoy that.  And I’ll see my refugee friend in a couple of weeks.  All is well.

Over the last year or so, I’ve noticed something weird about the house.  Very weird.  Every once in a while, in the middle of the day, the house shudders.  The whole house.  You can feel it more downstairs than up.  The first few times it happened, I dashed to the basement to see if the furnace had just died or if the washing machine had attacked the dryer.  Nothing was out of place, nothing looked out of the ordinary.  Then I started to wonder if it was an earthquake.  We did have an itty bitty one not that long ago.  But it had happened at least half a dozen times – wouldn’t there be something in the news about half a dozen earthquakes?  Then I started to worry about crazy things, like sinkholes.  Invasions of mole people burrowing up from under the foundation.  Being stalked by bio-engineered Tyrannosaurus Rexes.  Tyrannosaurus Rex.  Tyrannosauruses.  Tyrannosauri.  It’s like the glass of water in the movie, only with a bigger thud.  Earlier this week, I realized the house shudder thing has never happened on a weekend.  Only on weekdays.  And, except for this week, I’m rarely home on weekdays.  This week, I noticed that it has happened around 11:30am each day.  I mentioned the weekday thing to John yesterday or the day before, wondering if maybe it happens every day during the week, and he had a brilliant thought.  We live not far from a quarry.  Things explode at quarries.  Maybe that’s what we’re feeling.  And they’re only open on weekdays…  I put “call the quarry” on my to-do list.  So today, I was working from home, 11:30 rolled around, and a few minutes later, the house shook.  I picked up the phone and called.  “Do you make things explode at 11:30 every weekday?”  “Well, it’s not always exactly 11:30, but…yeah.”  “Thank you.  That makes me very happy.”  Mystery solved!

Note to self: if we’re ever in a position where we can sell the house, make sure potential buyers leave before 11am or show up after noon.  It’s like that scene in Mary Poppins, only not as entertaining.  “Posts, everyone!”

I feel like I’ve had a big test every week for the past month.  I’m not that far off, actually.  My statistics midterm is tomorrow, and now that I’ve finished the fourth quiz (and covered all of the material that will be on the midterm), I feel much better about it than I did about the calculus exams.  We’ll see how I feel when it’s over.  Speaking of things being over, I got a B in that calculus course.  I’ve never been so happy to see a B.  Maybe now I can find my routine again.

I got stood up yesterday by the loan officer from the bank that holds our mortgage.  I raced home so I could be there when he called (we want to refinance), sitting down (not in the car) and not distracted, and guess who never called?  I was a little annoyed.  A lot annoyed.  He called this morning to apologize and reschedule for this afternoon.  I’ve decided not to hold a grudge.  I’m carrying enough of those.  How many is enough?  Or too many?  I only have grudges against three people, and I think they’re justified.  I know Margaret agrees.  It might be a little immature, and maybe it would be healthier to forgive and forget, but since it doesn’t affect my day-to-day life, do I have to?

Who can resist those beautiful brown eyes?

He’s reminding me that I should be paying attention to him who adores me and not so much to the computer.  I’ll be right there, Doggy-dog.

I love Tom and Lorenzo.  They make fun of people in the most delightful way.

That appears to be all I have to say today.  Oh, wait.

This week, from an I-was-better-about-doing-the-things-I-need-to-be-doing perspective, has been much better than last week.  Last week was all about keeping weird and stupid hours, not getting enough sleep, eating like a piggy little pig, and NOT EXERCISING AT ALL.  All week.  I didn’t feel so hot when I got to last weekend.  I felt downright disgusting.  And very very tired.  So I’ve been better this week.  Not perfect, no, but better.  About that stuff.  I haven’t pigged out (as much), I’ve done some sort of exercise every day since Sunday, and I’ve been getting closer to eight hours of sleep every night.  This week was MUCH worse for work, though.  But I’m not going to talk about that.  (I vented to Jess on my way home today, so I feel a little better.  Thanks, Jess!)

The other thing I feel better about?  Calculus.  I got my midterm grade back over the weekend.  I got a B.  That’ll do.  I thought I did better than that, but considering…everything, I can be happy with it.  I take my final next week.  I turned in my last quiz twenty minutes ago, so the final is all that’s left.  That feels good, but so does knowing I can still handle calculus.  After all this time.

Now what do I get to do?  Clean.  Clean like crazy, like the wind, like I’ve never cleaned before.  Because the house is a WRECK.  It looks like a tornado came through.  See for yourself:

This is what happens when we don't pick up the clutter for a couple of weeks. We just keep shoving it to the side.

Note the calculus paraphernalia and the books stacked all over the dining room table (because the giant annual used book sale I LOVE was last weekend and we just HAD to leave work early on Friday to go before they closed at 7pm that night because we were out of town the rest of the weekend) and the toilet paper, giant bottle of ibuprofen, and tons of mail scattered on the island.  And that’s just this room.

I know where I’m starting, though.  All those new books need to be shelved, and before they can be shelved, they have to be catalogued.  Hey, it’s gotta be done.  I might as well be the one to do it.

There’s probably an HOA regulation against it (or a county ordinance or an actual law or something), but sometimes I think it would be kinda convenient if we could lug everything out of the basement and burn it in the backyard.  Except the washer and dryer.  And the dog crates.  And the drum sets, amps, guitars, studio equipment, and other musical paraphernalia.  And the books.  Everything else, though – who needs it?  It’s not stuff we use often, if ever, and we’ve already combed through it looking for stuff to donate, so why are we still holding on to it?  Some it is paper – things that should be filed and held onto for a while.  I started that project over a year ago; I’d like to finish it some day.  We have an exercise bike I don’t use – I could easily get rid of that.  John has a weight bench, but he uses that sometimes.  What else?  I really don’t know.  But there’s a lot of crap down there.

In other news, I have no news because I still haven’t gotten my midterm grade and I decided not to bug my professor because why?  I don’t know.  I just decided not to bug him.  It hasn’t even been a week since I took the test.  I can be patient.  For a couple more days.

I’m considering cutting out caffeine.  Cutting back certainly.  Possibly cutting it out altogether.  I’ve been drinking too much of the stuff lately.  Today alone: 1 cup of tea with breakfast at home, 1 cup of coffee mid-morning at work, and another cup mid-afternoon.   TOO MUCH.  I don’t know if I can start tomorrow, though.  I’ve got an 8am meeting downtown, so I’ll need something or I’ll fall asleep on the way in.  And Thursday I’ll be exhausted from Wednesday’s very late night….I’ll start Friday.  You believe me, right?  How is it that I got through four years in the Navy without a coffee habit only to be beaten by a regular 9-5 job?  Hm.  The answer may be in the question.

Did I tell you that I fell down the other day (Wednesday, I think)?  Don’t think I did.  I fell.  On the kitchen floor.  For no discernible reason.  But I fell hard, and I’m bruised all over.  Including the inside of my left bicep.  I have NO idea how I managed to bruise that part of my arm and my knees.  I could understand the outside, but falling on the inside of my arm probably would have wrenched my shoulder, and I didn’t notice that Wednesday night….but that might explain the upper back pain I woke up with this morning…  It’s gone now.  The takeaway from this story is that I am a klutz.  I tripped over nothing and bruised myself all to hell.  It’s a wonder I didn’t stick a carrot in my eye at lunch today.  Do you have any idea why my boss would make fun of me for having carrots and hummus for lunch?  What’s weird about that?

Maybe I fell because the microwave died.  (Makes as much sense as anything else.)  The microwave that John fixed a while back has gone kaput again.  Won’t run at all.  Something happened (maybe lightning – we lost power) while we were on vacation.  Luckily, we still have John’s college microwave.  (I could have sworn we got rid of it after the last microwave fiasco because who needs two microwaves in one house?  Other than us.)  So now we have a useless microwave hanging above the stove and a very useful microwave taking up all the counter space above the dishwasher.  I don’t know yet if John is going to try to fix the broken one or if we’re going to buy a shiny new one to go in its place.  Either way, I’m sure we’re not going to get rid of the old one that keeps coming to our rescue.  We’re loyal like that.  Until we move.  I can’t make any promises when it comes time to pack up and the moving company charges by weight.  On the other hand, when we’re being charged for hundreds of boxes of books, what’s one microwave in comparison?

John got up around 4:30 this morning.  I assumed he was just getting up to go to the bathroom.  I certainly didn’t hear anything, but I did wake up.  I heard a strange sort of beep when he closed the door, but I assumed it was the hinges.  I heard it again when he came back out.  So, definitely hinges, right?  But not your normal hinge noise.  I blinked and realized that John was now in the room across the hall with the light on, and the noise was getting louder (or maybe I was just more awake).

Sleepy and confused me: “What is that?  What’s going on?”

Wide awake and thoroughly irritated John: “It’s the smoke alarm.  It’s not hooked up to anything, and I’ve removed the battery, but it won’t stop beeping.”

It was our very own re-enactment of a Friends episode.  Except I’m pretty sure John just replaced the battery and came to bed.  I think.  I didn’t ask.

Some days, I’m just not capable of thinking up things to write about.  Even boring things, like the weather (we had ice this morning and I went in to work late – it didn’t make work more exciting).  I promised pictures of the new bookshelves, but I was hoping for sunlight.  And I’ll probably wait until there’s stuff on the ones in the dining room.  It’ll make for a better picture.  The house is shaping up pretty nicely, though.  The first floor only.  The second floor needs some work.  We’re almost in the market for a futon to replace the twin trundle beds in the guest room.  (I say almost because we spent WAY lots of money this weekend.  More furniture will have to wait.)  Before the dining is done, however, I need wine racks.  Wine racks that will fit on bookshelves.  I’ve seen a couple, but nothing I love.  And I don’t want to turn the whole bookcase into a wine rack.  Which means I’ll need other places to store wine.  I haven’t yet given up on this (it would look quite nice next to a chair by the fireplace or near a chair (that I would need to buy – what was I just saying about money?) in the library), and I’m looking for similar items…

In the meantime, I found this picture on Bookshelf Porn, and I’m torn between wanting to swim through the books (like Scrooge McDuck in his money pit) and itching to organize them.  They’re crying out to be sorted by genre and alphabetized!

Can't you hear them? "Sort us, please! We're so confused!"

This weekend last year, we went to Ikea, bought bookshelves, put them together, and re-shelved all the books.  This weekend this year, we went to Ikea, bought bookshelves, and will be putting them together and re-shelving all the books tonight and tomorrow.  I’d like to make this my new birthday tradition.  Very few things make me as happy as puttering around with my books.  Tomorrow (maybe Monday – there’s a lot to reorganize), I’ll have pictures.

I had a good (for me) idea today.  Not exactly earth-shattering to anyone else, I’m sure.  We’re going to be away for parts of the next few weeks, and I was thinking about how nice it would be to come home to a clean house.

I know, right? Brilliant. Usually, cleaning up is the first thing we have do when we get back ’cause the house is a wreck from being neglected while I was running around like a crazy person to get ready for the trip.  This time, though, I’m planning ahead.  I cleaned TODAY.  I got home a little early from work, so I turned the radio up (for that sweet sound) and started picking up.  The dining room table is clear, the island is clear, my desk is clear (a major accomplishment), and there is no clutter to be found on the first floor.  I even dusted.  Haven’t done the windows yet or vacuumed or done anything upstairs (I’ve still got a few days – give me a break, people), but the house is almost in the condition it needs to be in before we’ll let people come over.  Almost.

The odds against it staying this way are…let’s not think about that.  Think positive thoughts!

The fan is on high, and I’m watching the chain swing around in a circle, and I think it’s drawing all the thoughts out of my head.  It’s going around and around and around…  If I were insanely rich, I’d have a couple of rooms in my house for totally mindless entertainment.  One would be like a moonbounce/trampoline room.  The floor would be all trampoline and the walls and ceiling would be padded.  No sharp edges or hard surfaces.  I’d have another room with lots of stuff hanging from the ceiling all the way to the floor, like bead curtains or wind chimes, things that make tinkly sounds when you brush by them, sort of fake-waterfall, liquid-y metal things.  Those rooms would be in addition to the multi-story library, of course, with ladders and spiral staircases and galleries and stuff.  And the theater.  And the gym.  And the pool.   And the GIANT bathroom and awesome kitchen.  Um, those would be separate.

Around and around and around…

I don’t think this is the right time of day for me.  I tend to post in the evenings, but exactly when varies from right after I get home to right before I go to sleep.  Right now, when I’m looking at the clock and calculating how many hours of sleep I can get and trying to decide if that’s going to be enough and will I be exhausted tomorrow or will I hear my alarm and reset it because I’m too tired to run – right now is when I shouldn’t be writing.  I get anxious about getting enough sleep, and feeling like I need to post something before I go to bed makes it worse.  It’s not a high level of anxiety or anything, nothing like when I was traveling, but there’s something left undone and I won’t feel better until it’s done and even when it’s done, if I did it late (like now), I won’t feel enough better because, well, now it’s late.  And later means less sleep.  And for some reason, I can’t be laid back about how much sleep I get.  Solution?  (I’m into solutions lately.)  Post earlier.  Before dinner.  Or get ready for bed and post from there.  That’s worked for me a couple of times.  Which leads me to…why am I not doing that now?

We had some mechanical difficulties today.  Woke up to find the A/C not working anymore, so I called the company who last serviced it and they sent out a technician.  We had an easy problem to fix, luckily, so the A/C was back on by early afternoon and I finished the day working from home.  Love doing that.  Then, I asked John to stop on the way home to pick up dinner (Subway), but I’d forgotten about his weird car issue.  He bought the sandwiches, but couldn’t get home because his car wouldn’t start.  I picked him up, we ate dinner and dodged anonymous phone calls (Iowa keeps calling, but they never leave a message.), and then we headed back to Subway to see if his car would start.  It did, I guess because it had been an hour or two.  John thinks (and I agree, whatever that’s worth) that it’s a temperature issue.  The car will start when it’s been sitting for a while (overnight or the whole work day for sure, and, like tonight, even just for a couple of hours), but if you drive it for 20 minutes or more and then stop just for a couple of minutes, it won’t start until it’s cooled down.  Sometimes it helps to top off the gas tank, but that doesn’t always work.  If he’s only driven it for a couple of minutes (like to the gas station or to Starbucks), it’ll start even after another quick stop.  It’s weird, and if I’d thought about it, I wouldn’t have asked him to pick up dinner.  Maybe that’s the lesson: don’t ask John to pick up dinner.  He’ll like that one.  Even if it doesn’t actually solve the car problem.

Why does there have to be a lesson?  Why is Roxy incapable of backing up?  Why do birds suddenly appear?  Why ask why?  Drink Bud Dry.

Today, we took Step One in the Cancel the Cable Already! Plan.  Actually, we took Step 1 a few days ago when we ordered the Roku.  It arrived today, we set it up, we’ve tested it out, and tonight we’re going to watch a movie.  How exactly does this help us in the Cancel the Cable Already! Plan?  Um…I won’t be DVRing movies from Comcast anymore.  It doesn’t help with current TV, either.  Really, I think it’s a mindset change.  We have a Roku!  Next step is to put together a nice-looking, unobtrusive computer that can live near the TV and provide the link to the internet.  Soon.

Speaking of the internet, we had to go to our local Comcast office this morning to pick up a new modem.  That fixed our connection problem.  I’m so relieved.  I didn’t want to have to wait until Monday night for a technician to show up (or not show up) and then tell us they can’t fix our problem (which is what they were saying on the phone last night).

A little housekeeping, figuratively speaking: Roxy had four seizures in 15 minutes Thursday night (late, of course).  The vet probably considers that one seizure.  She hasn’t had any since then, so technically, I think it doesn’t count as a cluster.  She desperately needed a bath after that, so I brushed 2 tons of hair of her (the furminator is awesome), and then gave her a bath on the deck this afternoon.  She’s all clean and sparkly now.

Some literal housekeeping: I helped John sort and clean out a big part of the basement today.  We boxed up all of our inventory books and stacked them in a corner, got rid of some trash, put a few more things aside for donation, and rearranged the whole east side, giving the band more room in their corner and making it easier for John to get to his weight bench.  More importantly, John used the shop vac to get rid of a lot of dust and a TON of dog hair.  The basement looks a whole lot better, unfinished as it is, when it’s not coated in dog hair.  I could say that about everything, I think.  Except dogs.

I’m preparing for the weekend by making all indoor plans.  Except for a trip to the grocery store that I foresee putting off until Monday or Tuesday, I don’t want to leave the house.  (I might try to run in the wee small hours, but don’t hold your breath.)  I’m going to clean out my closet, which should lead to cleaning out the guest bedroom so it can stop doubling as my work clothes closet, and while I’m at it, I’ll try to clean out my dresser drawers, too, since I noticed this morning that I can barely close them.  And now that I’ve published that little to-do list, you have to hold me to it.

Tonight is about Chinese food (Jess, we chose Chinese!  I know how much you care…) and one of the movies from the DVR.  I’m so ready to be lazy this weekend.  Except for the closet cleaning, of course.

I was home from work a little early today, so I decided to spend my free afternoon doing my favorite kind of housework: putting books away.  I shelved all of the new books, and since I had to put them in the right places (alphabetically), I had to move all of the books, shelf by shelf.  We used to have six free shelves on this last bookshelf in the dining room, but now we’re down to two and a half.  Another 60 books or so, and we’ll be out of shelf space again.  Poor us.  We’ll have to buy more bookshelves.

Go see Bridget. She had an alien encounter (and made Cleveland look gorgeous).  Then watch this. (The two things are not at all related.)  I laughed so hard I nearly cried.

Roxy is fine.  Thought I’d start with that, since that’s pretty much how John started a phone call to me late at night on the first Monday I was in Rhode Island.  That’s two weeks ago now.  John got home from work that night and everything was fine.  He went out to rehearsal at Will’s place just before seven and got back right around ten.  He said both dogs met him at the door, as usual, wagging their tails and looking stupidly happy, as usual.  But Roxy was soaking wet all around her neck.  And then he saw this:

And this:

\

And lots more.  Those two pictures are of opposite corners of the first floor of our house.  There was blood EVERYwhere.  It was on the dishwasher, the blinds, the walls, all over the floor, the couch, and, of course, the dog.  Who was fine (and not really bleeding anymore).  John spent a couple of hours cleaning up, and then he brought Roxy upstairs to sleep and left Riley downstairs.  Roxy spent all of Tuesday at the vet, who didn’t have much to say.  She had a shallow gash along her shoulder, which apparently bleeds like a scalp wound would on a person.  As far as we can tell, Roxy had a seizure while John was a rehearsal and Riley did his crazy holding her down thing and in all the thrashing around, managed to scrape her shoulder.  Blood flew during the seizure, I’d imagine, and then Roxy did her recovery thing, which consists of her wandering aimlessly around the first floor, rubbing on everything and bumping into every hard surface.  This time, she tracked (and rubbed) blood all over everything within reach.

She really is fine.  John said she wasn’t bleeding anymore by the time he got her into the bathtub.  The vet didn’t even have to shave her.  We realized we can’t leave the two of them loose in the house when we’re not home after this, and so we can’t use the pet-sitting service anymore.  We can crate them while we’re at work or when we go out, but if we’re out of town, we can’t crate them all day and all night except for the three hours a day the pet-sitter is visiting.  Maybe if we had a house-sitter…  Luckily, the kennel had an opening (two – they have to be boarded in separate runs now, too) for the RI trip, so John left them there Wednesday morning and came to see me Wednesday night.

While I’m documenting seizures, she had that one Monday night two weeks ago (6/14), another short one the following Tuesday night (6/15), and she had one yesterday around noon (6/27).  Short, we were home, no big deal.  Every person who answers the phone at our vet’s office knows who we are.  I called this morning to update her file with yesterday’s seizure, and all I had to do was say just that: “This is Susannah, and I’m calling to update Roxy’s chart.”  They used to have to ask for my last name, my phone number, all that stuff, but not anymore.  On a positive note, two weeks ago she only had two seizures in a row, 24 hours apart instead of 12.  This time, she had one yesterday around noon and hadn’t had another one by the time I left for work this morning.  She seems to have broken the three-in-a-row-12-hours-apart pattern.  Yay!

Our do-nothing weekend was surprisingly productive.  We made it to the book sale and bought a ton of books, went to Home Depot on the way home, and then spent maybe half an hour re-potting my herbs, planting seeds in the little face pots, and hanging flowers from the front porch.  While we were out front, our neighbor came rushing over and gave us a pound cake!  We couldn’t imagine what for, but then she apologized for being so late with it and said it’s a thank you present for helping her husband and daughter shovel out the driveway and sidewalk last February.  I’d completely forgotten about that, at least partly because I didn’t help.  That was all John.  Such a good neighbor.  And SUCH a good pound cake.

Today, we slept in again (sleeping in is a beautiful thing) and then totally cleaned up our super messy bedroom.  Everything is put away, we got rid of some things, we dusted everywhere, and vacuumed the whole room, including under the bed.  I haven’t attacked my closet yet, but that’s coming soon.  And it’s not that scary.

Pound cake isn’t scary, either.  I want some.