I go to change the batteries in my wireless mouse. I already have the new ones laying out on the table, and as I try to get the second old one out, it pops out of my hand and lands on the table, knocking into the others and mixing them all up. Now I don't know which are my old batteries and which are the new ones. This is the kind of day I'm having.

I think I am a bad maid of honor. Today I was doing bridal things all day with my mom, and it left me terribly grumpy. We were shopping for shower favors for half an hour before we decided we're not really make-it-yourself people and we could order something much cooler online. We also picked out thrifty invitations for the shower and I got my dress. None of these on their own are stressful things - buying dresses and cute paper products are actually two of my favorite things to do - but somehow the blizzard that we had to keep walking and driving through managed to dampen my spirits, along with the recurring realization that Lindsey and I have vastly different tastes, and I needed to pick things with her aesthetic in mind instead of my own. I was actually finishing a card with registry info to go into the shower invites when my mouse stopped working and the battery thing (I almost wrote 'fiasco,' but I don't want to be accused of speaking in hyperbole) happened. So. I'm choosing to take that as an omen and retire to Danny's for an evening of wii. Because I do that now?

some things i've been meaning to write about and a surprise visitor

There is a lady bug in my house. It just flew onto my computer screen. It is December. And I know I shouldn't harbor bugs indoors in the winter, but I don't want to kill it; I'm glad that it's here.

I seriously thought about picking up a chap-stick I saw laying on the sidewalk yesterday, cutting off the used part that had been on someone else's lips, and keeping it. How gross is that? (For the record, I left it on the ground. No promises about next time though.)

Last week Meijer started playing Christmas music, and while I was walking down the dairy aisle, a song from the Hanson Christmas album starting playing, and I knew all the words. I didn't sing along, but I must have looked a little weird as I couldn't stop grinning, and if I were a stranger looking at me, I would wonder what this girl found so funny about cottage cheese.

Now the lady bug is crawling through Daisy's fur. Daisy wants it to get off. It's by the base of her tail, so she can't reach it but keeps turning in circles trying to see what's tickling her anyway. The ladybug only has two spots on its back; I think it's one of those faux lady bugs like the kind that were swarming all over Markley in the fall of 2001. This makes me a little friendlier toward the thought of killing it eventually. It just crawled under the printer. Perhaps it heard that (because don't we all talk along to ourselves as we type, like Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan do during every IM conversation of You've Got Mail?).

And speaking of Meijer, while I was checking out in the express lane (that same day, after the Hanson song was over) I couldn't help looking at the items of the man in front of me. I was in an express lane, but not the U-Scan; I don't use that one when I buy produce. Anyway, the man in front of me was buying these things: one XL frozen 'supreme toppings' pizza, a gallon of Gilby's vodka (I thought they only made gin...huh), a gallon of OceanSpray pink grapefruit juice, a pack of cigarettes. I imaged the night he was about to have, and felt a little sad about it. My basket, by the way, was probably just as depressing as his but in an antithetical kind of way; I was getting apples, peanut butter, and milk. While he was going home to eat like a hard-worn construction worker - as his attire suggested - I was going to eat like a 5-year-old. Fantastic.

I'm only here writing this because I don't want to study for my final.

Maybe the lady bug will drive to Allendale and take it for me next Tuesday...if Daisy hasn't eaten it before then (the lady bug, that is, not my final).

W.F.o.t.D.

Warm Fuzzy of the Day:

Hey Miss Taber!

I wanted to let you know that I've spent the last 55 minutes trying to memorize "The Snow Man" by Wallace Stevens, a poem that I picked to perform tomorrow in my interpretive reading class because I remembered it from your whiteboard last year! I hope all is well, and I hope to see you soon!

All The Best,
Student X

(A note I found in my facebook mailbox this evening)

Since I'm sick of looking at those spinning wheels, it's time to put something else here. Actually, I've recently experienced a break-up of sorts, and I probably should talk about it in a balm-of-hurt-minds, cathartic kind of way.

It happened over Thanksgiving; my relationship with my cell phone ended, and I'm taking it pretty hard. I mean, we met in college, which everybody knows is a pretty intense situation as far as social networking and relationship building goes. We were together all the time - during class and going out on the weekends. It was there through that killer student teaching semester and then after graduation when I wasn't quite sure where I was going or what I was doing. But lately, things between us had been a little strained. The connection was getting weaker, the energy was low almost all the time, and the whole thing just felt kind of old and tired, like there was no mystery left. I mean, I knew those buttons and menus so well that I could dial in the dark, or one-handed, or even with mittens on if it came to that. That's how close we were. But it wasn't enough. I knew that fateful morning, when I woke up and found a blank screen staring at me, that the spark was finally gone for good. That was the end of it. And even though I had seen it coming for a long time, that instant it sort of felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.

I've got a new phone now, but things are still awkward between us; sure it's thinner than my old phone, but that just means it's harder to find in my purse. And it feels different when I hold it in my hand and press it up against my ear. It's going to take a while to get used to each other, that's all. You don't just walk away from a four-year relationship, even if moving on means internet access and a built-in touch-screen mp3 player, whole and unscathed. Soon enough I'll be able to look back and remember the good times. For now, I'm just taking things one voice mail at a time, and that will have to be enough.

Can someone put this picture on a tshirt for me, or would that just be asking for unwanted leering? I suppose it would look nice as a nifty throw pillow or tote bag too. (Don't look too long or it will make you a little nauseated)

And while we're speaking of optical illusions, I almost think I'd prefer this one on a tshirt. Much more hip and edgy (if optical illusions can every be described as such...)