I’ve had the craziest dreams all weekend. The kind where you wake up and remember every single detail with crystal clear clarity. The kind where the rest of your day is colored by the disturbing events that occurred while you were sleeping.

I hate that.

In the first, there was some sort of massive explosion that changed the face of the world (I said they were crazy). Many survived, but we were living in a ghost-like city, and those in charge were doing a piss-poor job. I went off on my own with someone—not entirely clear who—and then we were getting flashlights from off the street—under several feet of water. At some point my cats were in this dream… they were staying at a hotel that I had been staying at before the explosion. After it, I went back for them (they were fine… hi, they are my cats… very resourceful. 😉 )

In the second, it was Christmas and I had forgotten to get the presents for my family. It was two days before Christmas, then Christmas Eve and I was in a dead panic. (Which is very odd, because I’m the person who has all the Christmas presents purchased before Thanksgiving, normally.)

And now that I’m typing this, I have forgotten the third… last night’s. But it was just as disturbing.

Alright, so here’s the thing… is this because I’m completely off the cigarettes? Four days now and not a one. Is it because I have a new mattress? Or is it because my parents are coming and I am stressed? I don’t know.

But it’s weird.

And I don’t like it.

Columbus Day. Apparently our company celebrates it by… yes, that’s right… not going to work. Woohoo. 🙂

Is everyone else working? Does anybody have today off?

I slept in. I ate sushi. I played with the cats. Then I went shopping and bought new sheets. And a Waterpik shower head.

I’m quite excited about the fact that my parents will be here in a few days. My mom is bringing me Almond Roca, and dad is going to install the new shower head. Yay. 🙂

Anywho, so I’m all mellow and just puttering about the house.

Then I attempted to turn on my ceiling fan in my living room. Sparks flew, something popped and the damn lights went out. I think, I think I might have a short. Uh huh. Fortunately the landlord was up and he flipped the breaker switch and then came upstairs and poked at the fan.

He’s going to come back on Monday. With an electrician.

And the day was going so well… lol.

The coworker and I spent the day at the main office with the Boss. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad. The Boss’ wife is being fazed out of the company (we think), and so she wasn’t at the meeting… which means no marital fighting. A bad, bad thing in the workplace. There wasn’t any yelling or being mean AND we got to eat Thai food again. Bliss. 🙂

However, there was one little incident… I was discussing this new (terrible, very bad, no good) program that the Boss wanted me to get and use to design the images of the report covers we give away on one of our sites. I despise this program. You can only use it on PCs and it’s just very… icky. And I can design these covers freehand, so my response was “WTF?”

Anyway, so I was saying, “Well, I don’t really like it. I designed the basic cover using the program, then I had to take it into ImageReady and fuck with it..” and OHMYGOD, I just said fuck to my boss. I was so appalled. I blushed and covered my mouth while the Boss, the general manager and the coworker busted out laughing. I couldn’t stop apologizing.

The GM looked at me and said, “Don’t worry. He [the Boss] cusses all the time.” The laughter continued.

Ten minutes later, the Boss used the f-word in a sentence, paused, looked at me and said, “Did I get you to start swearing?” More laughter ensued as I assured him that, no, he had not.

Yeah. It was one of those days… lol.

There’s a meme floating around that I thought was hysterical. You put “your name needs” in Google and then tack up the first ten results. Funny stuff.

Without further ado.. what I need:

Every prayer she can get.
Someone she can trust.
Gavin more than ever now.
Your help.
It.
A lot of personal attention to make her feel more secure.
To do whatever she wants.
A safe haven and a place of kindness and gentleness.
To do this.
To find Chelsea.

In all honesty, I was really hoping that one would say “a damn cookie,” but alas, it was not to be.

I am tired.

I am cranky.

I abhor PCs.

I despise working late.

And I want a damn cookie.

I just finished putting together the mother of all beds. The bed, I promise you, created by Lucifer himself. Forged in the depths of hell by his posse of minions, this bed came with screws galore and, quite possibly, the WORST instructions I have ever seen. Horrible, nasty, god awful instructions… 15 pages of inscrutable, backwards directions.

So here’s the ad:

WANTED: One handyman.
When: ASAP, or, whenever I buy new furniture or need the trash emptied (and the trashcan protected).
Requirements: Must be strong, able to wear cute shorts (i.e., nice calves, ass, etc.), preferably brilliant (I need to be entertained when you put the furniture together, duh) and must always put the seat down.
Preference given to: Those who can cook and give massages.
Compensation: Depends on how good you look in the shorts.. 😉

My hands hurt. I have a headache and it’s taken me about five hours to put this damn bed together. And I have pieces left over, so god knows it’s probably not actually put together.

Sigh.

I’m so glad my dad is coming to visit me in eight days. 🙂

I bought a very nice new bedframe the other day at IKEA. It’s nice, yes?

After trucking it home and hauling all three boxes, a giant silver bar and a stack of slats up my stairs, I decided I was done for Sunday. No big deal, the new mattress doesn’t arrive until Wednesday.

Last night I started putting together the monstrosity—using 15 pages of instructions.

On step two, I encountered a wee problem. A screw was supposed to be screwed into the wooden baseboard using a washer and some other twisty device that they provided. It worked fabulously on one side, but not-so-much on the other side. The washer refused to come off of the screw. (A double screw, with different thread widths on each side.)

After begging for help and instructions via email and phone, attempting to ice the screw and heat the washer at the same time and a jigger of vodka, I gave up.

I was beaten by step two. Oh the overwhelming shame.

Now I must go to Home Depot today and convince a nice man in an orange apron to unscrew the washer from the screw. Or just to buy a new screw.

I got my damn ass kicked by IKEA. Not cool.

And why this is a hysterical site.

Today is trash day, and after much deliberation, I decided to put my trashcan, once again, on the curb.

Who here thinks it’s going to be gone when I get home?

Yeah, me too. Damn.

Talking with my landlord on Saturday, she was aghast to hear that someone had “borrowed” my trashcan. So it definitely wasn’t her. I’ll be keeping an eye on my next door neighbor. He’s a bit creepy anyway.