There’s always a letdown

You know how sometimes taking a shower is a chore?  I don’t get why, but there are plenty of times I just don’t want to.

Some of my reasons:

  • I don’t want to get up, I’m comfortable here.
  • It’s too hard.
  • I’ll have to move my arms a bunch.
  • I’ll do it tomorrow.

And in that mood, once I finally do shower, yeah, it’s a chore.  Get it done, get out, go back to doing whatever I was doing (or not doing) before.  Eh.

But then there are those other times, those times when I step under the hot water and realize my whole life has been waiting for this.  I was meant to be in the shower.  I live here now.  In fact, I’m typing this from the shower.  (Okay, I’m not, but I wish I were.)  The water is hot, the bathroom is warm and steamy, my shampoo smells good, I’m warm and comfortable and no, I’m never coming out.

Whoever invented the hot shower should be celebrated around the world, praised be their name.

But then, the sudden but inevitable betrayal*: the hot water runs out, the water goes cold, and I reach for a towel, sad and bereft.

*All sudden but inevitable betrayals boil down to this:

Used books are treasure chests

I bought a used book at a convention in Boston the other weekend, and it is a perfect example of why I love used books.  It came with STUFF!

I got it home and I started reading it, and a few pages in, a bunch of Mickey Mouse stickers fell out from between the pages.  Early birthday present, I guess.  The next day, further into the book, I turned a page and found two business cards for a lady in Massachusetts.  Someone had written what looks like flight information on the back of one of them, plus “Poo Monday 9:00”.  I have no idea what that means or what it has to do with flight times, and I don’t plan to speculate.

Next up, maybe halfway through the book, was a flattened piece of red cellophane, maybe a candy wrapper.  Pretty.  And last, an actual bookmark.

On top of that, I liked the book.  It was the gift that kept giving!

Hugo burnout

I had to take a break from reading only Hugo-eligible books.  Since I started that plan (right around New Year’s Day, I’ve read 19 Hugo-eligible novels and novellas.  I’ve really liked seven of them, but that leaves too many books in recent memory that I didn’t like all that much.  That hurts my brain.  I need to go back to my normal approach to choosing books, and for next year’s Hugos, I’ll just have to sprinkle in eligible books throughout the year.  I think it’s the only way I’ll survive.

I started my break, and I feel SO MUCH BETTER.  I never expected to be so stressed out by this.  When I don’t like a book, or when I put one down without finishing (I only did that ONCE), and the stakes are whether or not I nominate it for a Hugo, I feel like I’m letting the author down.  As if my one nomination is going to make a difference.  Still, I’m sorry, author!  I feel bad!

Nominations are due a week from Friday, so this will soon be in the past.  Until it’s time to vote.  But that part should be fun.

I get emotionally attached to my TV shows

I’ve been watching Jane the Virgin (really enjoyable show on Netflix) when I’m on any sort of cardio machine at the gym, and today, the show betrayed me.  Something happened at the end of an episode in the middle of season 3, something awful, something SO FREAKIN’ SAD, and really truly shocking because this isn’t that kind of show, and I broke down bawling right there on the machine.  I had to go hide in the bathroom for a minute.

Let this be a warning to you: the show is funny and sweet, light, totally a telenovela, and so fun.  Right up to episode 10 in season 3.  Be ready.

Similarly, I love Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, but two separate episodes in season 3 of THAT show made me sob, too.

Huh.  The CW is doing some good work, I guess.

An apology is warranted

I am not a pizza snob.  I love pizza of all kinds, from all places.  I don’t love all toppings, but that’s my own personal taste – I don’t care what you put on your pizza.

So we went out to a pizza place last night, and for the first time, I’m questioning whether what we had was really pizza.  I mean, it came out on pizza dough.  It was round (not a requirement, but a helpful visual indicator).  It was flat.  It had crust.  But instead of sauce and cheese, it had mashed potatoes, bacon, and scallions.  That’s it.  It was good, to be sure, but was it pizza?

I’m on the fence.  It certainly didn’t scratch my pizza itch (we’re ordering more traditional pizza tonight), but who am I to say it can’t be called pizza?

Mashed potato pizza, I’m sorry I questioned your bona fides.  I apologize for repeatedly telling John today that you weren’t pizza.  I didn’t mean it.  It was only so I could justify having pizza again for dinner tonight.

I am ashamed.

Odors everywhere

Something smells in our kitchen, and I can’t figure out what.  I’m pretty sure it’s the fridge, since the smell appears after we open the fridge door (unless that’s just coincidence, which I haven’t ruled out), BUT when we stick our noses right in the fridge, nothing smells bad.  I’ve already tossed everything that could possibly have gone bad or be going bad, and there are no spills.  I’ve gotten rid of the ice just sitting in the freezer.  The trash has been taken out.  The garbage disposal is clear.

This smell won’t go away.  I mean, it DOES go away – it fades pretty quickly and even when it first starts, it’s not as strong as it was earlier in the week, but why does it keep coming back?  What is it coming from?

It’s driving me crazy.

Which reminds me of the smell in the car, which has FINALLY gone away.  About a week ago, we smelled skunk right around our parking spot, like a skunk had sprayed or died or something near the car.  No sign of it, but the whole area smelled.  We got in the car, no smell, and went off to do whatever we were doing that day.  Then, every day for the next week, outside was all clear, but we could smell skunk pretty strongly INSIDE the car.  It was just this morning that we got in and realized the smell was gone.  Why was it inside the car but not outside?  It was gross.

Bad smells suck.

Make it stop

I’m working late, and when I’m working late,  I’m cranky, and when I’m cranky, there’s no room in my head for anything but what’s making me cranky, and I don’t want to talk about work.

I might be cranky about describing myself as cranky – I am NOT a toddler.

(I might be acting like a toddler.)

If I throw a tantrum, maybe I can stop working.

No, that’s not how this works.  Big deadline tomorrow, and I’m stuck waiting for four other people to do their thing, one at a time, before I can do MY thing, and this is the fifth time we’ve gone through this exercise today.  It’s 8 o’clock.  I want to be done.

Oooh, we have butterscotch pudding.

I AM a toddler.